


Terminus

by Soledad



Series: The Lost Voyages of the Next Generation [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alien Pheromones Are A Risky Thing, Androgynous Aliens, Don't Mess With Vulcans Because They Have The Longer Arm, Gen, Klingons Are Always Scowling, Mysterious Alien Objects, Saurians Are Tough Cookies, Stubborn Androids Are Stubborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: TheEnterpriseis to deliver supplies to the Starbase terminal Bynax II, under the command of Picard’s old friend, Commodore Ty Norsen. The assignment turns extremely serious when they receive a distress signal from Norsen, claiming that Bynax II is in extreme danger. Nothing else is stated in the announcement. This particular story is based on the similarly-titled story idea of Philip & Eugene Price.Timeframe:Season 3, after “Tin Man” but before “Hollow Pursuits”.





	1. Encounter in Deep Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bridrani are Carli’s species from “Blood & Ice”. Carli’s looks were based on Colin Morgan as he appeared in “Merlin”. Ensign Rina’s looks are based on Virginia Moffet as she appeared in “The Doctor’s Daughter”, in Dr Who. However, this doesn’t mean that either of those characters would be male _or_ female. They are Bridrani, and that’s a category unto itself.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 01 – ENCOUNTER IN DEEP SPACE**

The USS _Enterprise_ , Starfleet’s flagship, was hurling through deep space at Warp speed – at maximal travelling velocity, in fact – distorting the light of the stars outside to long, slightly bent, multi-coloured streaks. It was a spectacular view, yet one most people would find unnerving, therefore most real windows on the ship were obscured during Warp transit, save for Ten Forward, where it was part of the attraction, and some personal quarters where people could arrange such things individually.

It was the beginning of Gamma shift – also known as the night watch – according to the ship’s own time. The lights on the bridge were down, with only the Ops and Conn stations illuminated. The skeleton crew of the night watch was going quietly about its business.

In his quarters, a pensive Captain Picard was pacing restlessly, trying to compose a log entry that somehow kept eluding him. Finally, he paused in front of the antique brass ship's barometer mounted on the bulkhead and began to speak.

**“Captain's log, Stardate 43795.4.**

**The _Enterprise_ is bound for Bynax II near the Pleiades Cluster – a Starbase terminal under the command of my old friend Commodore Ty Norsen – to rendezvous with a Starfleet courier USS _Cairo_. We are to deliver supplies to the Starbase and to collect documents from the _Cairo_ ; documents about certain diplomatic efforts, too sensitive to be transferred via subspace channels.**

**Hopefully, the mission will provide an opportunity to evaluate our newest Specialist Trainee, Ensign Rina. In the short time s/he’s been aboard, Specialist Trainee Rina has distinguished hirself as a meticulous and competent junior engineer. But will the engineering staff be able to get used to the very specific nature of hir species or will hir presence cause unwelcome interruptions in the smooth working of Engineering? She’s the first Bridrani to work on a Starfleet ship as a full crewmember – we’re exploring newland here.”**

Absently, the captain rapped the barometer's face plate with his knuckles. To his surprise, the needle moved -- pointing to "STORMY." Picard shook his head ruefully, wondering for a moment whether this had been a mere coincidence… or perhaps a warning.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The object of the captain’s thoughts, meanwhile, was sitting at a table in Ten Forward, near the bow ports. S/he was surrounded by Commander Riker, Geordi LaForge and several male crewmembers from Engineering, all of whom were listening to her with rapt interest. 

Part of the reason for such focused interest must have been the fact that Specialist Trainee Rina was an arrestingly beautiful young woman: delicate, almost sprite-like, with hir blonde hair pulled back to a tight ponytail from hir heart-shaped face that was dominated by a pair of luminous blue eyes. Exactly the kind of woman that could make grown men weak-kneed, even in the 24th century.

Except that s/he wasn’t a woman. Not exclusively, that is.

Hir people were a rare species of androgynous humanoids that only showed male or female characteristics when going into heat, in which case they switched genders to accommodate the choice of their partner. For the rest of the year they were completely asexual, living out their lives in complicated tribal bonds and doing what they were best suited to, for the good of the entire tribe.

Rarely did one of them leave their homeworld Briria – an insignificant little planet in a strategically unimportant star system, deep within Federation territory that nobody else wanted – to live among strangers. Too often had they faced bewilderment or even downright hostility in the past when their nature was revealed. They weren’t even members of the Federation, although they did trade with the closest Federation worlds, and their specialists – mostly medical technicians and nurses, as they had a unique knack for healing – sometimes took part in Starfleet’s officer exchange program. Those contacts were always temporary, though, since Briria only had a small merchant fleet.

Ensign Rina was the first and so far only Bridrani to be accepted at Starfleet Academy and chose to live and serve among other species for any length of time. Which explained the other reason why people were so interested in hir.

“Warp drive theory always came easy for me,” s/he explained hir audience innocently, “but I'm looking forward to some hands on experience.”

“I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate you,” Riker drawled.

Rina pretended that s/he hadn’t caught the innuendo. S/he was well aware that the XO was flirting with hir, but s/he was not the least flattered. S/he concentrated on finishing hir drink, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

Geordi LaForge, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the tension.

“I know what you mean,” he said with a wide, happy grin. “It's a really electrifying experience to be down there where the action is. Whenever I push the drive past Warp six I still get a lump in my throat.”

Rina smiled tentatively, glad to have found a kindred spirit. Riker, however, who didn’t like being ignored, broke their moment by taking the empty glass from hir hand.

“Can I get you another?” he asked, already standing.

Rina gave him a slightly annoyed look through hir impossibly long eyelashes. “Tell me, Commander, is it the custom on the _Enterprise_ for the First Officer to wait on trainees?”

“If they were all like you, I'm certain it would be,” Riker answered with a leer and headed to the bar, carrying two empty glasses.

He was, however, intercepted by Dr Selar who had just entered Ten Forward with flawless Vulcan timing.

“Commander,” she said without preamble. “You missed your test this morning. I suggest that you report to Sickbay at the first acceptable time.”

Riker turned around, a hint of unease flickering across his bearded face. “My apologies, Doctor. A minor crisis... in Engineering.”

Selar was clearly not buying it… not surprisingly. Had there been any real crisis in Engineering, she’d have already learned about it from Ensign Taurik. Vulcan logic and gossip had long figured out their way of peaceful coexistence.

“You behaviour is completely illogical, Commander,” she declared. “Taking a Rheinman tissue sample is a routine test. I can assure you there's no physical discomfort involved.”

“It's not that!” Riker protested; being called a coward in front of the crew wasn’t very flattering. “It's just... my duties are so diverse… Suppose we leave the appointment open?”

Selar shook her head. “Commander, there are over one thousand people aboard the _Enterprise_. If we did not work on a tight schedule, we would never get our work done. So no, we cannot leave the appointment open.”

“But it's just an unimportant detail...” Riker tried, but a raised Vulcan eyebrow told him this was a dead-end.

“If I did not consider it important I would not insist,” Selar declared coldly. “Do not force me to relieve you of duty to make my point, Commander; rest assured that I will do it.”

“You can't be…” Riker trailed off because a Vulcan – _any_ Vulcan – by default couldn’t be _anything_ but serious. “I'll work something out. But my schedule is tight for the next three or four days...”

Selar glanced towards the table where Rina and Geordi were still in animated conversation.

“So I see,” she said with such extreme dryness it would have put the hottest desert on her homeworld to shame. “It is my duty as a healer to warn you, though, Commander: a mere human would find it very hard to keep up with a Bridrani in heat. Be thankful they all take heat suppressants outside their homeworld.”

With that parting shot, she walked out again, leaving a dumbfounded Riker behind.

Rina and Geordi had fallen silent, watching the stars streak towards them beyond the ports. This was the first time s/he had a clear view since coming aboard and was greatly impressed.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” s/he asked softly.

Geordi nodded. Thanks to his VISOR he could "see" the ship's navigational shield as a gossamer scrim of shimmering colour, and beyond it countless waves of energy bursting from exploding suns.

“The most beautiful thing I know,” he agreed.

Rina turned to him in surprise, clearly not used to hearing men talk like this. S/he had the feeling that – given enough time – they could become friends, despite the rank difference.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Captain Picard stood in the darkness of his quarters, his face bathed in starlight. He was staring out the port at the same view that had so fascinated Rina. Yes, most people were uneasy at the sight of the Warp-distorted stars. A small minority, however, could not get enough of them. Stargazers, they were called, half-mockingly and half with grudging respect.

Jean-Luc Picard was one of these few. Had always been. The stars had fascinated him since his early childhood; called him away from his simple, traditional home in France with their siren song a long time ago. Now they were the only home he would ever have. The only home he would ever need. That his first ever command had been a ship named the _Stargazer_ almost counted as an omen.

The chime of the comm. system interrupted his meditation and he turned to the comm panel with a sigh. So much for a quiet evening. “Picard.”

“Captain, this is the Bridge,” Data’s unmistakable voice answered; the android usually had the Bridge during Gamma shift. “We're receiving a distress signal on an open sub-space frequency.”

“Sound emergency stations, and respond on the same frequency,” Picard ordered, rushing for the door. He would deal with the details later; now he had to see that the ship was ready to face anything.

When he reached the Bridge, the command staff was already there, Riker and Counselor Troi sitting on either side of the command chair. Data had vacated it in favour of returning to the Ops station. Worf stood at Tactical, scowling at his readings; but Worf was _always_ scowling for one reason or another, so that didn’t really mean much.

Only at Conn was still the duty ensign sitting, but before Picard could make a remark, Ensign Wesley Crusher finally emerged from the turbolift, adjusting his uniform and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped at the food slot, grabbed a cup of tea, and moved to replace the duty ensign at the Conn. This wasn’t exactly by-the-rules, but still better than falling asleep at one’s duty station, Picard admitted.

“Sickbay on full emergency status, Captain,” Dr Crusher reported through the comm. panel.

“Stand by, Doctor,” Picard took his place in the command chair. “Commander Data. Have we locked on to the signal yet?”

“Yes, sir,” the android replied. “A voice only transmission from Starbase terminal Bynax II.”

“Let me hear it,” Picard ordered.

Data touched one of his controls and the strong, resonant voice of a man spoke in a slightly accented Standard.

“This is Commodore Ty Norsen in command of Starbase Terminal Bynax II to all Federation ships in close proximity. We are in extreme danger. I repeat: we are in extreme danger and need immediate assistance.”

“Communication seems to be one-way, sir,” Data added. “Our attempts to answer the distress call have been so far unsuccessful. They do not appear to receive our calls.”

“I see,” Picard thought for a moment. “What is our ETA on Bynax II?”

“By current speed two days, sixteen hours, forty-two minutes and thirteen seconds, sir,” Data replied, earning the usual collective eyerolls. “And counting,” he added in the half-hearted attempt of a joke.

The eyerolls were now accompanied by groans. Only Picard seemed unaffected.

“Too long,” he said. “Alter course directly to Bynax II and go to maximum Warp. And send a message to the USS Cairo that we might be late for our rendezvous.”

“Course altered,” Wesley reported, entering the new course.

“Execute,” Riker said in a clipped tone; then, to Worf, he added. “Let’s go to Yellow Alert.”

The Klingon nodded his massive head. “Yellow Alert, sir.”

The klaxons began to how.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Down in Engineering, the crew routinely moved to alert stations as the klaxons continued to howl. Geordi hurried in, with Rina hot on his heels and replaced the duty engineer at the command console… right on time to answer Riker’s call from the Bridge.

“Give us maximum Warp,” the XO ordered.

“Maximum Warp, sir,” Geordi acknowledged his orders; then he grinned at his crew. “Let's show 'em what we've got.”

The crew sprang to action. Rina, too, seemed electrified.

“What can I do, sir?” s/he asked eagerly.

“Go to the back panels and give me a direct reading of the dilithium temperature spread,” Geordi replied.

The little alien hurried off, practically drenching the entire main deck in endorphins in hir excitement. Unfortunately, at the same moment Crewman Nelson, an engineer within the operations division, happened to be up on the catwalk. He got distracted by hir, tripped and tumbled over the railing onto the main deck. The automatic alarm sounded at once, like always when somebody got hurt, and several people – including Rina – rushed to the man's aid. 

Ensign Martinez, the med tech on duty in Engineering, ordered everyone to step back and let him do his job. Scanning the injured man with his medical tricorder, he pulled a face.

“Your leg is broken,” he told Nelson. “I’ll ask for an emergency beam-out, directly to Sickbay; the bone needs to be knitted.”

“What happened?” Geordi asked, coming in running.

Nelson sighed. His handsome, bronze-skinned face was bathed in cold sweat and he was in obvious pain.

“My fault, sir,” he confessed. “Missed the turn.”

Geordi looked up at the catwalk, then down at Nelson... and finally at Rina, having gained a fair idea how the accident might have happened.

“Ensign,” he said in a pained voice. “Maybe you better stay in the control room.”

The little alien recoiled as if s/he'd been slapped. But s/he said nothing. Wounded, s/he got to her feet and left; hir fragile shoulders slumped in defeat. 

Nelson looked after hir with sympathy. “It wasn’t her fault, sir!”

“I know,” Geordi sighed. “But that doesn’t make things any less complicated.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Several hours later the _Enterprise_ was still speeding towards Bynax II with maximum Warp. Gamma shift had ended and Alpha shift had begun – not that it would make much difference, since the command staff automatically went on duty whenever the ship was in alert status.

Picard chose to retreat to his ready room, leaving the bridge in Data’s capable hands – the android didn’t get tired, so he was actually a safer choice than the captain himself – to look up the reports from the previous night. Learning about Crewman Nelson’s accident (and the reason for it) didn’t help to improve his mood.

He’d been warned about the risks of having a Bridrani as a regular member of the crew, but he also knew that Ensign Rina was a technical genius who had worked hard to earn hirself the right to serve on a starship. It wasn’t hir fault that human males were defenceless against hir pheromones. Even on heat suppressants, a Bridrani was a sheer irresistible temptation for anyone with testosterone in their system whenever s/he got excited.

Only Deltans were even worse, but Deltans were an old and powerful race, more than capable of dealing with the situation.

It was simple biochemistry and neither side was at fault. But it _did_ complicate things, and Picard began to doubt if the advantage of having somebody with Ensign Rina’s instinctive understanding of Warp physics aboard truly outweighed the risks caused by hir mere presence.

His comm. unit chimed, interrupting his brooding.

“Captain,” Data said, “long-range sensors are picking up an unidentified object approaching us.”

“On my way,” Picard was already at the door.

As he stepped out onto the Bridge, Data rose from the command chair and went over to Science Station #1.

“The object appears to be of mechanical nature,” he reported. “It is approaching us with Warp factor nine point nine six seven.”

Eerie silence answered the announcement. That was just slightly faster than the _Enterprise_ was capable of. Picard didn’t allow the fact to catch him off-balance, though.

“Which means it will be in visual range, soon,” he said.

“Correct, sir,” the android replied.

“Put it on the main viewer as soon as we got the first glance,” Picard ordered. “I want to see what can be so incredibly fast.”

“So do I, Captain,” LaForge admitted, stepping out of the turbolift, Rina in tow. “Come on, Ensign, you’ll get a chance to see what the Bridge is like on alert.”

He sat down to the Engineering console; Rina shyly following him to watch over his shoulder. S/he looked like a frightened deer. Feeling a bit sorry for hir, Picard gave hir a friendly smile.

“Ensign; your first time on the Bridge, isn’t it?”

The little alien was clearly flattered at being noticed by the captain, but s/he was still trying to keep an eye on what LaForge was doing.

“Yes, sir,” s/he murmured absently.

“Perhaps you’d like to take a look from down here,” Picard continued, indicating the area in font of the main viewer. 

S/he appeared frustrated by the offer but didn’t really have a choice.

“Thank you, Captain,” s/he said politely and walked down to the lower area.

“Captain,” Data swivelled around with his chair. “The object has just come into visual range.”

“Finally!” Picard nodded in satisfaction. “Onscreen. Maximum magnification, Mr Data!”

“Maximum magnification, aye, sir,” the android acknowledged the order and put the image on the main viewer.

Everyone watched the unknown vessel with bated breath. It was like… like _nothing_ any of them had ever seen before, really.

The closest analogy would have been an old-fashioned sailing boat… or rather the first, experimental solar sailers. It was made of some pale blue metal, streamlined, with some long, narrow extensions on the bug that might or might not have been weapons. The heck swept in elegant arches upward _and_ downward, like the hypothetical sails and keel of a sailing boat… a fairly futuristic version of it. 

Two long, narrow tubes ran in the middle of it, from heck to bug; all other parts seemed to be connected to those tubes by vertical struts. The whole… _thing_ seemed to consist of artistically bent metal plates. There were no parts whatsoever that could have housed an actual crew – unless they were intelligent microbes or microscopic crystals that lived in the horizontal central tubes.

“No signs of organic life, Captain,” Data reported.

“That doesn’t mean nobody is home,” Picard replied. “Open hailing frequencies, Mr Worf!”

“Hailing frequencies open, sir,” the Klingon acknowledged.

Picard stood, tugged on his uniform tunic and stepped into the focus of the comm. system.

“Unknown vessel, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard from the Federation starship Enterprise,” he said formally. “Do you require assistance?”

There was no answer. The Bridge crew exchanged uneasy looks.

“No reply, sir,” the Klingon reported, somewhat unnecessarily.

Picard raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“Nothing, sir,” Data assured him. “No change in its speed or direction, either.”

“This could be an ambush,” Worf frowned.

“Or the danger Commodore Norsen indicated,” Picard said grimly. “Raise shields. Aim photon torpedoes. I’m not taking any risks.”

“Shields at one hundred per cent,” Worf reported.

“Torpedoes armed and ready,” Ensign Nagel at Tactical added crisply.

“Red Alert,” Riker ordered and the klaxons began to howl anew. “What else have we got in the neighbourhood?”

“No other vessels of any kind within two parsecs,” Wesley said.

In the meantime the alien vessel had caught up with them, its eerie, sweeping lines filling the main screen. It seemed completely unblemished, as far as they could tell.

“It’s beautiful!” LaForge breathed with the admiration only an engineer could feel at the sight of a truly masterful piece of machinery.

“No battle damage,” Picard stated.

“Not that we could tell anyway,” LaForge agreed. “It appears to be in perfect order.

“And no life signs,” Picard said slowly.

“No life signs,” Data assured.

Picard turned to Riker. “Can we board it, Will?”

“No, sir,” LaForge answered before Riker could have. “The vessel has an energy shield of previously unknown configuration. It will take time to adapt our transporter beam to get through it… time that we don’t have.”

“Why not?” Riker asked.

“Because it is faster than we are and it will be out of range before we’d have modified the transporter beam,” LaForge told him.

Picard turned to Wesley Crusher. “Ensign, can you extrapolate the vessel’s direction from its current course and tell us what its heading is?”

The young man nodded confidently.

“Of course, Captain,” he made a few calculations with the help of the navigations computer; then he looked up in worry. “Sir, it’s heading directly to Bynax II!”

“ _Merde_!” It was a rare thing that Picard swore, and only ever in French, but it still shocked his crew as it was always the sign of serious trouble. “Mr LaForge, is there any way to give us more speed? I’d like to get to Bynax II before that thing out there.”

LaForge shook his head in regret. “We’re already at maximum Warp, sir. Any more and we’d melt the Warp core. In fact, we’ll have to slow down to Warp 9.3 within the next five hours. We’ve been travelling at Warp 9.6 for a full shift; we can’t keep up doing so for more than twelve hours altogether without over-extending the Warp engines.”

“What about the _Cairo_?” Riker asked. “Could she reach Bynax II before us?”

“She might,” Geordi said thoughtfully. “She’s a _Bluebird_ -class long-range courier ship, built for speed more than anything else. Her normal cruising speed is Warp 9.5, which she can keep up for twenty-four hours, but her emergency speed is Warp 9.982 – for twelve hours, at least.”

Worf shook his head. “She might get there before us, but she’d be of little help against… _that_ there,” he gestured towards the main viewer, on which the alien ship… artefact… whatever was slowly getting smaller as it passed them.

“Is the _Cairo_ armed at all?” Riker asked.

“Class 9 defensive only,” Data answered promptly. “Mark XII phaser arrays, a photon complement of twenty, standard DEA auto-modulation regenerative shields and ablative hull armoury.” He paused, and then turned to Picard. “Captain, perhaps a warning would not be amiss.”

Picard nodded. “Agreed. The _Cairo_ needs to know what’s heading towards them. Send them a warning, Mr Worf, and instruct them not to engage the alien ship, unless it’s absolutely inevitable. They wouldn’t stand the chance.”

“Aye, sir,” the Klingon was already composing the message and reported in two minutes that it had been sent.

“Commander Ford from the _Cairo_ acknowledged your instructions, sir,” he added. “They will wait for us near Bynax II.”

“Thank you, Mr Worf.”

“What now?” Riker asked.

“Now we wait,” Picard answered calmly, “and spare whatever energy we can to feed it to the Warp engines. I have the feeling that speed is the main issue here.”


	2. Secrets & Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bridrani were conceived after the model of the species in “The Left Hand of Darkness” by Ursula K Le Guin.  
> A few lines of dialogue in this chapter have been borrowed from the original TNG script for “Unnatural Selection” – a script that went through significant changes before getting filmed. Rina was a one-time female (human) character in that script, a girl so beautiful that everyone got distracted by her beauty. I found that idea a bit silly, hoping that people could behave more adult in the 24th century and went for alien pheromones instead.  
> Certain details of Saavik’s life are my interpretation. Her actual origins are book canon.  
> And yes, I know that canonically the _Enterprise_ crew wouldn’t encounter their first Trill (and consequently learn about the joined species) until 2367, which would be a year from when this story takes place. I took a bit of creative freedom here.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 02 – SECRETS & LIES**

Three hours later the alien vessel, never slowing down a bit, had left the _Enterprise_ behind and got out of the range of their long-range sensors.

Another two hours later the _Enterprise_ had to slow down to Warp 9.3, and about ten minutes later to Warp 9 because the engines had begun to show first signs of stress. Understandably enough, Geordi wasn’t happy about that, and he was glad to have Ensign Rina at hand who had as fine a touch at diagnostics as s/he had a sixth sense for Warp theory.

As Geordi entered the main deck of Engineering, he found Rina at the maintenance table, working on an exotic piece of equipment about the size of a basketball. Two enthralled engineering crewmen – one male and one female – were watching hir work.

“Found it?” Geordi asked, not really doubting that s/he had.

Rina smiled at him. “All set. It was the sensor contact.

Geordi nodded in satisfaction. “Just like you said it would be. Let’s get it back in the panel and do a quick line test.”

“Yes, sir,” Rina lifted the unit off the table. The two crewmembers rushed to help hir carry it – with the result of the delicate device getting knocked from hir hand.

Geordi lunged at once and managed to catch it, mere inches from the deck where it would have shattered beyond repair. He took a few deep breaths before slowly getting to his feet and trying to check his anger.

“Come with me,” he said to Rina, a little brusquely.

He wasn’t really angry with hir, and the two crewmembers realized that. Embarrassed, they began packing up the test equipment as Rina followed him to the corridor.

They headed together to the equipment bay to reinstall the unit. It was a two-man job that wouldn’t require the chief engineer to work on it personally, but Geordi was afraid to let anyone else with the Bridrani right now.

“Running the engineering section is no different than running a drive system,” he explained while they were working. “I’ve got to keep everything in balance. To get maximum efficiency out of…”

“Don’t bother,” s/he interrupted, hir voice uncharacteristically bitter. “I’ve heard it all before. It’s not your problem anyway. It’s me.”

Geordi turned and studied hir for a moment. He didn’t need to ‘see’ hir face to read the disappointment in hir tone. It made what he had to say next even harder.

“That’s right,” he said slowly. “You’ve got plenty of aptitude, but your attitude is not making it.”

S/he whirled around, hir luminous blue eyes unnaturally bright, saturating the air with hir stress pheromones.

“What do you know about my attitude?” s/he snapped. “How would you like it if people always behaved as if you were some kind of freak?”

Geordi finished the installation and closed the access panel slightly harder than he needed to. Hir last remark hit a little too close to home.

“What do you think _this_ is?” he asked, tapping his VISOR. “My ticket to success?”

He started past hir, but s/he reached out and grabbed his arm. Hir hand was small and strangely cool but hir grip was surprisingly firm.

“Wait…” s/he withdrew her hand, clearly ashamed by hir previous outburst. “I’m… sorry. Maybe I’m the one who’s blind…”

“What you are is maybe the most talented engineer to come out of the Academy since… well, since _me_ ,” Geordi sighed. “Doing this job is in your blood. Now all we’ve got to do it to convince the rest of ‘em,” he extended his hand. “Deal?”

Rina shook his hand. “Deal,” s/he said a bit tremulously.

S/he knew, of course, that it wouldn’t be quite that simple. Living among people who were in heat all the time could be difficult for a Bridrani. Dangerous, even. But perhaps Lieutenant LaForge was different. He seemed willing enough to see what s/he was capable of and give hir a chance, despite who – or _what_ – s/he was.

Perhaps s/he could make this work, after all.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Picard had retreated to his ready room for Beta shift to think over what little they knew about the situation. Unfortunately, they had not enough facts to form a working theory. He was about to give up and return to the Bridge when Riker, in command during Beta shift, called him.

“Sir, we’ve come in sensor range with Bynax II,” the executive officer reported. “Preliminary scans show no life forms evident on the planet surface.”

“ _What_?” Picard was on his feet already. “Is the alien ship there?”

“No, sir,” Riker replied. “Neither can we locate it anywhere in the neighbourhood. The USS _Cairo_ , however, is already in standard orbit around Bynax II, and Captain Saavik requests a conference with you.”

“Saavik?” Picard repeated in surprise. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

He broke the connection, not waiting for Riker to acknowledge his orders. That was definitely a surprise. Captain Saavik was a living legend within Starfleet and beyond – had been for over a century.

One of the handful survivors of Hellguard, born as the result of sexual violence committed by Romulans against a captive Vulcan – like the other half-bred children rescued by the Federation, she didn’t even know which one of her parents was Romulan and which one Vulcan – she got accepted by Starfleet nonetheless, thanks to the patronage of then-Captain Spock. She built herself a stellar career, first due to her working with the infamous Genesis device and the subsequent saving of Spock’s life, and then as a Starfleet officer. 

Later she became even more famous as the wife – now the _divorced_ wife – of the legendary Ambassador Spock… there was nothing the woman wouldn’t have seen or done in the last century.

Picard had been present at her wedding. He had also heard that the bond had been dissolved a few years previously. He didn’t know that Saavik had returned to active service, but it didn’t surprise him that she would command a long-range courier ship now. She was the wife – all right, the _ex-wife_ – of one of the Federation’s top diplomats, after all; it was only logical that she would accept work in the same line of duty.

Worf put the call on the main viewer as soon as Picard stepped out onto the Bridge. The woman sitting in the command chair of the USS _Cairo_ was wearing the asymmetrically cut dress uniform of a Starfleet captain (she must have come directly from some diplomatic event) and seemed not to have aged a day in the last two decades. Her chiselled features were as unblemished as always, her auburn hair, worn in a tight knot on the top of her head, untouched by white. Nothing but a slight hardness in her face showed that she was well beyond a hundred and fifty years of age.

“Captain Picard!” she said with a slight smile that seemed as always, a little odd on the face of a Vulcan. “It is good to see you again. It has been a long time… too long, in fact.”

“It is good to see you, too, _Saavikam_ ,” Picard replied. Their long friendship allowed him to address her in this familiar manner. “I only wish the occasion would be a more pleasant one. Have you been able to locate anyone on the planet surface since your arrival?”

Saavik shook her head. “None so far; but we have barely arrived an hour ago.”

“What about the alien ship?” Picard asked.

“No mechanical object of the parameters you transmitted us has been detected within sensor range,” Saavik answered with typical Vulcan precision.

“But the deserted planet, combined with the distress signal the _Enterprise_ received earlier, indicate that something fairly serious must have happened,” Riker argued.

“I disagree, Commander,” Data intervened. “I believe your reaction could be best described as ‘alarmist’.”

Riker rolled his eyes bud didn’t answer. Picard turned to Troi.

“Counselor, can you sense anything from the surface?”

“Anger,” the Betazoid answered without hesitation. “The distance is quite large still, but I can definitely feel anger. Somebody _must_ still be alive down there, or else the residual emotions would be much harder to identify.”

“Alive and probably hiding,” Geordi added.

“What if we sent down a joined landing party… I mean, away team?” Saavik suggested, correcting herself mid-sentence. 

She might not _show_ her age, but the old-fashioned terms that sometimes slipped into her speech revealed how long she had already been in Starfleet service.

“That’s a good idea,” Picard said. “I don’t know where the alien ship has gone, but I do have the feeling that we’re not done with the thing yet. It would be the best if we could find the colonists before it returns,” he turned to Riker. “Number One, assemble an away team and coordinate your efforts with…”

“With Commander Ford,” Saavik finished for him. “He will be leading our half of the away team.”

Picard nodded. “Make it so, Number One. You leave in ten minutes.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Less than five minutes later Riker, Troi, Data and a two-man security detail met with Geordi in Transporter Room Three.

“We’ve modified a few of the standard tricorders to adapt to the unique background radiation of the Bynax sun,” Geordi explained, gesturing at Rina on his side. “It was tricky, but we managed it just fine.

Riker grinned at him. “That’s why we gave _you_ the job,” he patted Geordi on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Let me know as soon as you’re set.”

“Will I be on the away team?” Geordi asked eagerly.

Riker shook his head. “Too dangerous for a valuable man like you. Fortunately, first officers are expendable.”

“Very funny,” Geordi said in a tone that revealed that he didn’t find it funny at all. “You may need my special vision down there, Commander, and you know that. Instruments can only do so much for you; I, on the other hand, can interpret what I’m seeing.”

“I know,” Riker admitted unhappily. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it, right?”

“No,” Geordi agreed cheekily. “It’s enough if you take me with the away team, sir. I’m sure it will be all right.”

“Hopefully,” Riker pulled a face; then he turned to Rina. “Just in case we don’t make it back…” he kissed hir hand with flourish. “It was a pleasure, Ensign.”

He stepped onto the transporter platform gesturing the rest of the away team to follow suit… including Geordi.

“Six to beam down, Mr O’Brien,” he said. “Energize.”

The good-natured Irishman nodded and carried out his orders. Rina watched hir boss and the others dematerialize; then s/he wiped the hand Riker had kissed on the hem of hir tunic.

“Humans,” s/he muttered in disgust. “No sense for personal boundaries. I should have requested a transfer to a Vulcan ship.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Bynax II might have looked spectacular seen from space, with its multiple gaseous rings that cast a bluish hue on the surface, but it was not a world Geordi would have liked to live on, he decided. Less so as lightning storms were a common sight on the planet, if the tall, dead trees marking the scorched surface were any indication.

The duranium domes of the Starbase terminal could easily withstand such storms, of course. Still, for his part Geordi would have preferred to live somewhere in the huge, ancient forests that covered basically the entire planet – save for the small oceans, of course.

O’Brien had put them down in the middle of the seemingly abandoned main dome of the Starbase terminal; in the middle of what was generally called C&C (= Command and Control) in Starfleet slang. The other half of the away team – the people from the USS _Cairo_ – were already waiting for them.

Their commanding officer was a tall and slender Centaurian, one from the native _mo’ari_ people from Alpha Centauri IV: bald, dark-skinned and red-eyed, with a long and complicated four-part name only one of his own people could pronounce correctly. Centaurians serving in Starfleet usually adopted human names for administrative reasons. The executive officer of the USS _Cairo_ went by Commander Ford.

The rest of the _Cairo_ away team was made up of a security detail of Rigelians – not surprisingly, as Vulcanoids generally preferred to work together – and an elderly, unjoined Trill who turned out to be the ship’s doctor. He was stocky, with the usual spots along his neck and temples and thinning hair.

He also seemed delighted to see Troi, with whom he’d met on some medical conference a few years previously.

“What, exactly, are we looking for?” Commander Ford asked Riker.

“People,” the executive officer of the _Enterprise_ replied succinctly. “According to the Starfleet memo, this Starbase terminal had a crew of over seven hundred. They have to be _somewhere_!”

“All humans?” the Trill doctor inquired.

“Save for the occasional Vulcan scientist and Bolian engineer, yeah, mostly,” Riker said.

Then he turned to Data. “Mr Data, try to start a search pattern. See if you can find anything on the surface that might have justified a distress call.”

“Aye, sir,” the android accessed the main computer of the Starbase terminal and started scanning the surface in a steadily widening circle.

“Mr LaForge,” Riker continued, “look for unusual energy sources. Perhaps that way we can figure out where these people have gone.”

“Can we be certain that they are still here?” Commander Ford asked.

“I can feel a multitude of minds, mostly human,” Troi said. “But it appears as if they were in a considerable distance. I find it hard to reach them, even passively.”

“What do you mean?” Riker frowned. “Usually, you can feel such a large number of people from orbit. You felt them while still aboard.”

“I know,” Troi seemed troubled. “I can’t explain it.”

“Perhaps a dampening field?” the Trill doctor suggested.

“Or they can be deep under the surface,” Geordi said. “I’ll check the structure of the base if there are subterranean areas beneath.”

“Natural caves could also serve that purpose,” Ford said.

“Then you should scan for both,” Riker said to Geordi, and the engineer nodded.

“”It will take some time, especially if they left the immediate area of the Starbase terminal,” he warned the others. “We are in the centre of Bynax II’s largest continent.”

“ _How_ large is it exactly?” Riker asked.

“Roughly the size of Australia,” Geordi replied. “This is not a very welcoming planet, in any aspect.”

“But strategically important,” Commander Ford pointed out.

Riker nodded. “Exactly. Which is why we should check the surroundings of this complex and see if we can find anything threatening on the surface. Mr Data, you’ll help Commander LaForge with the scanners. The rest of us should split up in two groups and begin with a systematic search.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Commander Ford agreed with the suggestion. The two executive officers contacted their respective captains and got their permission to go on with Riker’s plan. Unfortunately, they didn’t find any sign of the Starbase crew on the surface – or of any possible threat, for that matter.

“As if the very earth had opened up and swallowed them,” Commander Ford muttered angrily.

“That’s exactly what happened, Commander… well, sort of,” Geordi piped in through the comm system. “Data’s found the base terminal logs; apparently, Commodore Norsen had moved the entire crew into a secure area, one point five miles below the surface.”

“One point five _miles_?” Riker repeated in astonishment. “Small wonder you couldn’t feel them clearly,” he added, looking at Troi. “Who knows what could be in so much rock…”

The Betazoid shook her head, her jewel-like eyes dark with concern.

“That shouldn’t be able to block my abilities. No; there is something else at work – something I’ve never met before.”

“I consider that bad news,” Riker said dryly. “Geordi, have you found any access point to that secure area?”

“Negative, Commander,” LaForge replied. “I believe they simply beamed in; but the memory buffers of the transporter have been wiped clean. Not even Data could reconstruct the information. He tried. It didn’t work.”

“But you do have the exact coordinates…?”

“Well… as exactly as one can be when scanning through one point five miles of rock. But yeah; we can ask the _Enterprise_ to beam us directly in.”

Calling the _Enterprise_ , Riker did exactly that, after having consulted with his captain.

“You go in,” Commander Ford suggested. “We’ll stay on the surface and continue our search. _Something_ must have happened here that sent these people into hiding; and I want to find out _what_ it was. We need answers.”

Riker absolutely agreed with that, and after another check-back with Picard, he requested that he and Troi be beamed directly into the underground area, leaving the security detail behind to protect Data and Geordi, just in case. Chief O’Brien asked for a moment to adjust the settings of the transporter first.

“The area is not shielded, but certain minerals in the rock might interfere with the transporter beam,” he explained. “Since we don’t know their exact consistence, we’ll need extra caution.”

Less than four minutes later he reported the transporter room ready – well, “as ready as we’ll ever be” – and Riker ordered him to energize. He and Troi felt the slight disorientation that was always a side effect of using _any_ transporter… only that this time it seemed to have lasted longer than usual.

 _Considerably_ longer.

“For a moment I had the feeling as if I had materialized in that wall over there,” Troi said, swallowing nervously. All of a sudden, her throat felt very dry.

“For a moment, you actually have,” Riker answered wryly. “We both have. Luckily, O’Brien managed to adjust the beam in the last millisecond. But it was a close call. Too damn close for my comfort.”

“Where are we?” wondered Troi, looking around.

They were standing in a subterranean room of moderate size, with a flat ceiling. It was completely empty, not even as much as a computer interface could be seen anywhere; and yet she had the feeling that they were being watched. By many eyes.

Before he could have warned Riker, though, a previously invisible door was flung open in the blank, metal-covered wall and a short, wiry Bolian male, wearing the usual black coverall of Starbase personnel, with yellow shoulder patches and the rank insignia of a chief petty officer on his turtleneck collar, stormed out through it.

“So, you’ve finally come!” he declared, his voice high-pitched with indignation. “It’s time that Starfleet got up from their lazy asses and _did_ something about the situation.”

Riker exchanged concerned looks with Troi. Whatever said “situation” might be, it apparently wasn’t good.

Discovering just a moment later that their comm badges didn’t work down there only made things worse.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
As if the Bolian engineer had been but the cork removed from a bottle of champagne, dozens of other people poured into the empty room after him, crowding it till there was barely any air left to breathe, shouting angrily, demanding to be let out from this place. Troi, usually not one to easily panic, was getting more anxious with every passing moment, as the people in there clearly were panicking and wanted to get out, by any means necessary.

They also clearly didn’t have a clue what was going on.

“Wait… wait!” Riker tried to raise his voice about the angry noise. “Let me speak with Commodore Norsen first. Where is he?”

“Right here, with my people – where else should I be?” a wry voice answered and out came a tall and board man with wavy white hear and an equally white, neatly trimmed full beard.

Commodore Tyrus Cassius Norsen – Ty for his friends – was probably the most imposing man Riker had ever seen; and he _had_ seen his fair share of imposing men, from Starfleet admirals through alien dignitaries to legendary Klingon warriors. He was also the oldest of said imposing men – well, save for a handful of Vulcans, of course.

Ty Norsen was well over a hundred years old; not a unique thing among humans in the 24th century, yet the only sign of his age was his grey hair. He still looked like some Viking chieftain and was apparently every bit as fit as one.

He had been one of the young Jean-Luc Picard’s mentors at the Academy – hence their long friendship – but he was also one of the few who had actually served with the living legends of the 23rd century as a young man: with Captains Kirk, Spock and Sulu, with Admiral Cartwright before his unfortunate fall, and many, many others.

He was an excellent military strategist and a skilled diplomat, which was why he had been assigned to such a remote outpost on the Federation border, where a First Contact situation was always a real possibility. He was supposed to deal with all possible aliens, both friendly and hostile ones, and he had always done so with unbroken success.

What could have frightened such a man enough to not only send out an urgent distress call to Starfleet but also go into hiding with his entire crew before his call could have been answered, Troi wondered.

Whatever it might have been, it clearly didn’t prevent him from being in control of the situation, though.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he demanded, focusing the sharp glance of his almost watery blue eyes on Riker’s bearded face.

“Commander William T. Riker, executive officer of the _Enterprise_ ,” Riker introduced himself. “We came answering your distress call.”

“Ah, the _Enterprise_!” Commodore Norsen smiled in obvious relief. “Where’s Picard?”

“On the Bride, I assume,” Riker said. “Commodore, what’s going on here? Your message said Bynax II was in great danger, but we found nothing threatening on the surface.”

“He’s gone mad!” the Bolian engineer scowled. “He’s forced us to go underground weeks ago. Our emergency supplies are running low down here, yet he won’t allow us to go back to our quarters.”

“It’s for your own safety,” Norsen replied grimly. “You have no idea of the threat we’ll be facing, soon.”

“And _you_ do?” Troi asked sceptically. “By all due respect, Commodore, precognitive visions are all but unknown in humans; and your file doesn’t mention any unusual ESP-abilities.”

“I’m telling you: he’s gone mad,” the Bolian engineer repeated; then he turned to his comrades. “You heard the Commander: there’s nothing threatening on the surface. I say, we all move back up.”

“If you do, you’ll be all killed,” Norsen warned him grimly.

“Oh, will we?” the Bolian sneered. “I’d like to see any hard proof for _that_ ; or else I’m going back, and that’s final! I’ve had enough from living in a dank hole like some Terran earthpig!”

The others agreed with him very vocally, and Riker knew he had no means to keep them underground, even if he wanted. And he wouldn’t try to force them; not until he could be certain about the danger Norsen was reflecting to.

“Counselor?” he asked softly.

“Commodore Norsen seems to honestly and firmly believe that his people are in grave danger,” Troi replied with a helpless shrug. “I don’t think, however, that he would himself have any clear idea about the exact _nature_ of that danger.”

“Then how can he be sure that there _is_ a danger in the first place?” the Bolian, clearly the spokesman of the angry crowd, demanded. “Did he have a holy vision from a purple goddess with a tail that warned him?”

The other Bolians grinned, despite themselves. Such visions were the common side effect of certain aphrodisiacs on their homeworld.

“I have my methods,” Norsen said dismissively. “And you people would do better if you listened.”

“No, we won’t,” a woman with the red eyes of an Alpha Centaurian said. “I am sorry, Commodore, but if you can’t give us a reasonable explanation, we’ll return to the surface. Panun E’Ni,” she gestured towards a reptilian petty officer who, if her glittering scales and the crest on her head and down her neck was any indication, belonged to a rare Saurian subspecies, “is just about to go into hibernation. It’s too cold for her down here; she needs to get warmed up. The heating units here cannot produce the temperatures she needs to stay conscious.”

“And _we_ need proper food and at least one long, hot shower,” the Bolian added. “Come on, people! Let’s have the officers discuss theory here; _we’ll_ go back to our quarters.”

“I forbid you…” Norsen began but the Bolian interrupted him rudely.

“And as soon as I’m up there, I’ll file a reassignment request, together with a complaint,” he said. “I’m sure I won’t be the only one.”

There were grim nods all around, and the others surrounded the Bolian protectively while he got a site-to-site transporter online. Then, ignoring Norsen’s protests and warnings, they all left for the surface, by fours and sixes.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“That went well,” Riker commented sarcastically. “Care to explain what’s going on, Commodore?”

Norsen shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot, Commander. I hoped I’d be able to speak wit Picard. He’d understand.”

“For that you’ll have to return to the surface, sir,” Riker said. “Our comm badges don’t work down here.”

The Commodore rolled his eyes, as if Riker’s stupidity had physically hurt him. 

“Of course not,” he said, irritated. “This is a heavily shielded are. Scanners and comm devices are not _supposed_ to work here, for our own safety!”

Riker shrugged. “As I said, in that case you’ll have to return to the surface with us, sir. The days when starship captains would run headfirst into danger, joining away teams, are passé.”

“A shame,” muttered the Commodore angrily. “They’ve all become bureaucrats, sitting in their comfortable offices, losing touch with reality.”

At first Riker wanted to protest, as nothing could have been less true for a man like Captain Picard, but in the end he decided against it. He recognized an uphill battle if he faced one, and Commodore Norsen clearly wasn’t in a cooperative mode. He exchanged a look with Troi who gave a tiny nod of agreement.

“Let us return to the surface, sir,” he said neutrally. “There you’ll be able to discuss things with Captain Picard. Shall I set the transporter to automatic?”

“I’ll do it; despite common belief, I’m not a complete dotard yet!” Norsen snapped. “Or do you think they’d let me run this outpost if I were an idiot?”

As this was clearly a rhetoric question, Riker refrained from answering. He and Troi obediently stood on the transporter platforms, while Norsen set the system to automatic, and several seconds later they rematerialized in the control centre of Bynax II Base.

“Any news?” Riker asked Data and LaForge.

The android shook his head and continued working, but Geordi seemed cautiously excited.

“I went out for a look with Commander Ford’s team,” he reported. “Our instruments registered nothing unusual, but my VISOR picked up energy on a wavelength I’ve never seen before. I think we should track those energy waves; they could be important for our search.”

“No!” Norsen interrupted, and there was almost something like panic in his eyes. “I won’t have you turn this planet upside down, just to satisfy your curiosity! I’ll speak with Picard now, and the two of us will decide what should and what shouldn’t be done. That’s why we are the commanding officers here!”

The _Enterprise_ officers exchanged exasperated looks, but they couldn’t do anything. Commodore Norsen was the commanding officer of Bynax II base; unless he’d prove incapable of making command decisions, his word was the law here.

Resigned, Riker touched his comm badge. “Riker to _Enterprise_. Captain, we’ve found the base personnel. They were hiding in an underground bunker but are otherwise fine. However, we found nothing threatening on the surface that would justify the need of hiding.”

“That can change soon, Number One,” Picard replied grimly. “Give me Commodore Norsen, _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points for those who catch the "Andromeda" reference.


	3. Mirror Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the alien ship is based on a picture of The Dan Curry Gallery in “The Art of Star Trek”. The design was originally made as a possible version of the Caretaker’s Array for the Voyager pilot.  
> For visuals: Commodore Norsen is “played” by Donald Sutherland. The Saurian engineer looks like the new, improved Silurians from Doctor Who – just because they are beautiful.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 03 – MIRROR IMAGE**

Captain Picard had been waiting for news from the surface with growing anxiety. Anything that might have eliminated the personnel of such a large outpost could be a serious threat for any Federation colony or Starfleet vessel. He wondered if the strange object/alien ship they had encountered might have anything to do with the distress call and the seemingly abandoned Starbase terminal.

The fact that the away team had found no physical sign of a recent battle was of little comfort. There were other weapons, subtler and more dangerous ones, that could wipe out entire species without as much as breaking a china cup in the process. They hadn’t found any traces of biological or chemical weapons, either; but again, they could only scan for _known_ substances.

Commodore Norsen would not have called for help without a reason.

Captain Saavik, who had known Ty Norsen even longer than Picard, agreed with him on that point.

They were both relieved when Riker finally reported back that they’d found the Starbase personnel, safe and sound, hiding underground for unknown reasons. But their relief was short-lived, as before Picard could even greet his old friend, Worf interrupted them.

“Captain, the alien object is back!”

Picard felt cold sweat trickling down along his spine. “Onscreen!”

The Klingon put the image on the main viewer, and they all watched the stunningly alien structure grow steadily in the centre of the screen as the object approached them at high speed.

“It has _changed_!” a strangled whisper escaped from Wesley Crusher, and this time no-one had the urge to slap him upside the head for stating the glaringly obvious. They were all too busy staring at the screen.

The alien object indeed seemed to have rearranged itself indeed. Its colour and basic design remained the same, but it appeared to have curled around itself, in a vague reminiscence of a Ferengi _Marauder_ # and even “grown” a tower of some sort on the port side – if that _was_ its port side to begin with.

The tower consisted of two spiralling swirls of blue metal, curling around a bundle of vertical tubes, made of the same material. Sizzling beams of blue energy connected both ends of the vertical tubes with other parts of the ship; namely various points of the swirls and the “neck” where those swirls grew out of the main body of the object.

Said main body now looked like a horseshoe, made up of twisting and twining tubes, with claw-like extensions on at least six different places. The largest, most finished-looking “claw” was on the starboard side, opposite the tower. The whole thing made a disturbingly organic impression, as if it had been alive, despite being made of metal – rather like a Borg, in fact – but also an unfinished one.

“It is still changing,” murmured Ensign Rina who had been invited by Liz Clancy to accompany her on the Bridge. “Look at those tubes on the starboard site. They are rearranging themselves before our very eyes!”

S/he was right, of course, and that earned hir a few appraising looks – for the first time for hir brains, not for hir looks or hir pheromones.

“What are those vertical tubes, I wonder,” Picard mused.

“Weapons,” Worf answered without hesitation. “By the amount of energy fed to them rather powerful ones at that.”

“Perhaps,” Picard allowed; then he turned to Rina. “What do you think, Ensign?”

S/he blushed and pulled in hir neck nervously.

“I’d think a powerful and very specific sensor array,” s/he said. “But, of course, Lieutenant Worf is more experienced with…”

“A sensor array is another sound possibility,” Picard interrupted. “Ensign Crusher, can you extrapolate the alien object’s destination?”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley checked his instruments. “It’s still heading directly for Bynax II, Captain. By its speed it should have reached there long before us.”

“The logical assumption is that the object needed to slow down to reconfigure itself,” Captain Saavik commented via the comm system; the two ships maintained an open channel all the time. “And now that it is nearly done, it has picked up speed again.”

“Have you managed to get any additional data?” Picard asked, knowing that as a courier ship the _Cairo_ was most likely equipped with a top-of-the-art surveillance system, especially with highly advanced sensors.

“None,” Saavik replied. “Our sensors are unable to penetrate its hull… which is alarming.”

It _was_ alarming indeed. _Bluebird_ -class ships had an experimental sensor array that could spot a cloaked Romulan ship in a nebula of highly charged particles. It was all top secret, of course, but Picard, being the commanding officer of Starfleet’s flagship, had access to more sensitive information than most.

“Captain, the alien object has come within sensor range to Bynax II,” Worf reported.

“Does it show any threatening behaviour?”

“None, sir,” the Klingon paused; then, almost reluctantly, he added. “It is merely scanning the planet’s surface.”

Ensign Clancy gave Rina the thumbs-up; s/he answered with a blush and a brilliant smile. That was one for hir.

“Nonetheless,” the Klingon continued, “we should warn Commander Riker about its arrival.”

“Good thinking, Mr Worf,” Picard touched his comm badge again. “Sorry for having made you wait, Number One, but we had a bit of surprise here. The alien object we had crossed paths with on our way here has reappeared.”

“What?” Riker sounded moderately shocked. “Where is it?”

“Currently in orbit around Bynax II,” Picard told him bluntly.

“That’s enough!” the unmistakable voice of Commodore Norsen interrupted them. “I need to speak with Picard. _Now_!”

Picard glanced at Worf. “Split screen, Lieutenant. I want a visual from the planet, too.”

The Klingon nodded his massive head and split the big screen between the alien object in space and the control centre down on Bynax II. In the next moment Picard was looking at the leonine head of his old friend.

“What is the meaning of this, Commodore?” he asked.

“We don’t have time for niceties,” Norsen waved off his question. “We’re in grave danger here. Jean-Luc. I require protection for my crew.”

“And we’ll provide it, naturally,” Picard replied, unfazed. “But we need to know what we’re dealing with. And what I’d really like to know is how you were able to send a distress signal before there was any danger. In fact, I’m still not convinced that there _is_ any danger right now.”

“You’re not _convinced_?” Norsen echoed incredulously. “There’s an alien ship in orbit, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Doing nothing threatening, so far,” Picard returned. “It’s merely scanning the surface; that’s all. Though I’d like to know what it’s looking for.”

“Perhaps I can help with that, Captain,” LaForge chimed in. “Due to my… er… special vision I’ve picked up unusual waves of energy when I was outside. Perhaps that’s what’s lured the alien ship here.”

“And the source of those energy waves?” Picard asked.

“We don’t know, sir. Commodore Norsen refused to allow us to investigate,” LaForge explained sourly.

“There’s nothing to investigate!” Norsen insisted. “Your crewman is imagining things. Or that seeing aid of his is malfunctioning. None of your instruments have picked up anything; because there _isn’t_ anything!”

“I don’t know,” Picard said thoughtfully. “Mr LaForge’s special vision has proved helpful before. It’s a unique piece of equipment, and I’ve come to trust him when he says he’s picked up something the standard instruments haven’t. I think we should give it a try. Mr Data, can you track those energy waves?”

“Not alone, sir,” the android replied. “But with the help of Commander LaForge… most likely.”

“Make it so,” Picard ordered. “I want the source to be found.”

The commodore clearly wanted to protest but Picard stopped him before he could open his mouth.

“Leave it, Ty. You asked for our help; you are getting it. But let it be our choice _how_ we provide it,” he broke the connection and looked at Worf. “Call Counselor Troi back, on a secure channel. Tell her I need to speak with her. Immediately.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Deanna Troi couldn’t help feeling just a little bit guilty when she beamed back to the _Enterprise_. Mediating between quarrelling parties would have been, in theory, her job. But with emotions running high among the Starbase crew, plus the head-butting between Will Riker and Commodore Norsen, she was close to getting overwhelmed – and accordingly glad to leave all that behind… if only for a while.

“I don’t understand, Captain,” she confessed in the safe familiarity of Picard’s ready room. “I’ve been in much worse situations during my career as ship’s counselor; they never affected me like this.”

“My old friend Ty Norsen is a very strong personality,” Picard said. “I remember during the first couple of years of our friendship I always felt steamrollered by him, even if he didn’t intend to do so.”

“But he would mean to sometimes?” Troi asked, smiling into her tea.

It was hard to imagine that _anybody_ could steamroller Jean-Luc Picard, even as a young cadet.

“Occasionally,” Picard admitted. “He’s always been a man of strong opinions – not to mention of vast experience – so it’s understandable that he believed he was right all the time.”

“Understandable – but mistaken,” Troi commented. “ _Nobody_ is right all the time.”

“Not even Tyrus Cassius Norsen,” Picard agreed.

“He firmly believes that he’s right about the Starbase being in grave danger, though,” Troi said.

“And he may be right; or he may be imagining it,” Picard paused, obviously running different scenarios through his mind. “Tell me, Counselor: while you were down there, did you have the feeling that somebody – or something – was tugging on your mind?”

Troi frowned for a moment by that layman’s definition; then she understood the possible ramifications and blanched.

“You believe that Commodore Norsen is being influenced by some outside force?” she clarified.

“It would make sense, don’t you think?” Picard asked. “He doesn’t have precognitive abilities – few humans have ever had – but I happen to know that he’s a latent telepath. Not strong enough to read anyone’s thoughts or to communicate mentally, but he can influence others to a certain degree with some effort. That is what’s made him such a successful commanding officer. But the same affinity might open the doors to a possible alien influence, too, couldn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Troi allowed. “However, I didn’t feel any attempts to toy with my mind; neither from Commodore Norsen nor from anyone else. The only thing I could feel was the underlying urgency to get everyone to a safe place; but that could have come from anyone. Most of the Starbase crew were upset by the commodore’s sudden and unexplained actions, and they can hardly be blamed for _that_.”

“It is the unexpected part that concerns me,” Picard admitted. “Ty Norsen may have his faults – who doesn’t? – but he’s never made such… such knee-jerk reactions. He always has a plan for all eventualities… or, at least, he used to.”

“Perhaps he still does,” Troi said. “He just refuses to tell us about it.”

“But why?” Picard asked, clearly frustrated. “He _asked_ for help! So why wouldn’t he tell us about this unspecified danger that is supposed to threaten his base? It makes no sense!”

“He might not know any more than we do,” Troi suggested.

Picard shook his head. “Oh no, I’m sure he does. And the fact that he refuses to tell us any details doesn’t bode well. Let’s hope that Data and Geordi will find us _something_ we can start with.”

His comm unit beeped. It was the Bridge.

“Captain,” came Worf’s deep, rough voice through the loudspeakers. “The alien object…”

“Has it attacked the base?” Picard steeled himself for the bad news.

“No, sir,” the Klingon sounded perplexed. “It’s… gone.”

“ _Gone_?” Picard repeated in disbelief.

“Yes, sir,” the Klingon replied. “One moment it was there, the next moment… it wasn’t.”

“Perhaps it cloaked itself?”

“No, Captain. Cloaked ships always leave a residual ion trail by which they can be tracked – if one knows what to look for. This one does not. It is as if it has blinked out of existence.”

“That is hardly likely,” Picard commented dryly. 

Worf spared himself an answer. Wild theorizing wasn’t one of his faults.

“If it can vanish from the sensors on a whim, it can just as easily reappear any time,” Picard mused. “Mr Worf, inform the away team and tell them to be careful… and to hurry up.”

“Aye, Captain,” and with that the Klingon broke the connection.

“Well, what do you say to that, Counselor?” Picard asked. “Curious and curiouser…”

“Indeed, sir,” Troi replied. “And that makes me _very_ nervous.”

To that Picard had nothing to say. Because, frankly, it made _him_ nervous, too.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
In the meantime Data and LaForge, accompanied by an increasingly agitated Commodore Norsen, his Bolian chief petty officer, whose name was apparently Hranok, and the rest of the away team, were busily tracking the energy waves Geordi had discovered previously. The Trill doctor from the _Cairo_ seemed just as interested in them, explaining that his husband, back on the Trill homeworld, was an astrophysicist and had researched previously unknown energy forms for his last three lifetimes.

Tricorder readings seemed inconsistent at first and they had no idea in which direction they were supposed to begin with their search. Until LaForge got an idea.

“Data, would it be possible to reconfigure one of our tricorders, so that it could register the same spectrum of energy as my VISOR?” he asked.

Data gave the problem some thought.

“Theoretically, it is possible,” he finally decided. “We should give it a try. If we succeed, the specific locator program of the tricorder could lead us directly to the source of those unusual energy readings your VISOR has picked up.”

“Excellent!” LaForge called the _Enterprise_ to report back. “Captain, Data thinks we could modify one of the tricorders to home in on to the energy signals and lead us to their source.”

“How soon do you need for the modifications?” Picard asked.

LaForge looked at Data askance.

“Approximately twenty to twenty-five minutes, sir,” the android replied.

“Make it so,” Picard ordered. “And keep me informed.”

“Aye, Captain,” LaForge broke the connection and turned back to Data. “Well, we’ve gotten the nod, Data. Let’s do this!”

Even with the android’s help, modifying the tricorder took longer than expected. It was nearly thirty-five minutes later when they had finally established the connection. But when they finally got there, the results proved worth the effort.

“Captain, we’ve got a clear signal,” Data reported. “According to it, the energy source is 24.7 miles to the north-west from our current position, in a 12.4 degree angle.”

“Too far for a walk,” Picard said. “Send Mr O’Brien the coordinates and have him beam the entire group over.”

“Will do, sir,” LaForge contacted Transporter Room Three and half a minute later they found themselves in a less heavily wooded area. In fact, it was a large grassy patch, surrounded by low, rocky hills.

Or rather it had been a grassy area a short time earlier. Now the soil was broken up as if an eruption had happened there. Or as if something really big had just crawled out from the inside of the earth.

The latter seemed more likely, seeing the huge… _thing_ sitting in the middle of the area. It was clearly of mechanical origins, it was blue, oddly shaped and made of an unknown metallic alloy. While the Bolian engineer of the Starbase stared at it in slack-jawed surprise, Data and LaForge exchanged grim looks. Then Geordi activated the holo-recording function of his tricorder and transferred the image to the _Enterprise_.

“Does it seem familiar to you, Captain?” he asked.

It was a rhetoric question, of course. Because the object sitting on the torn-up floor was the exact replica of the one that had been spotted – repeatedly – in space by the _Enterprise_.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Learning about this, Riker, who had remained behind to get as much information out of the Starbase crew as he could, had O’Brien beam him over to the location of the second object.

“Well, if this isn’t a surprise,” he said dryly. “Do you think our mysterious friend has landed while we weren’t looking?”

“Unlikely,” Commander Ford replied. “By the looks of it, this… _thing_ must have been hiding under the earth for a long time. It couldn’t have come to the surface any earlier than a week or two.”

“Well, we surely have never seen it on the surface before,” Chief Petty Officer Hranok said. “And we _have_ made surface sweeps regularly.”

“Have you taken detailed tricorder readings?” Riker asked his people.

“Of course, Commander,” LaForge replied, “But they were inconclusive. We can’t even tell for sure the exact composition of the alloy.”

“Well, why don’t you drill into it then, so that we can obtain a sample of the material for study?” Riker suggested.

“No!” Commodore Norsen objected promptly – and rather heatedly.

“I concur,” Data said. “We cannot tell if this object is still functional or if it has been raised by its spaceborn counterpart via telenavigation. In either case, damaging it in any way may be interpreted as a hostile act and lead to retaliation.”

“Nonsense,” Riker answered. “We haven’t been able to learn anything about the spaceborn object, due to its shielding. This is our first chance to get some answers. We _need_ those answers; and we need them _before_ the big brother of this thing shows up again.”

“Commander Riker does have a point,” the first officer of the _Cairo_ said. “Veebok,” he turned to one of the Rigelian security guards, “get us a drill from Engineering and let’s have a look into this… whatever it is.”

“I think I can do better than him, sir,” Chief Petty Officer Hranok pulled out an old-fashioned, hand-held communicator and called his own team. “Panun E’Ni, get the biggest drill we have and beam over with it to these coordinates.”

Commodore Norsen kept protesting but nobody really listened to him – least of all his own crew. A few moments later the exotic Saurian engineer, who had obviously recovered since returning to the surface, materialized in a distance of about five feet, carrying a drill almost as big as herself.

“A nice piece of equipment,” LaForge said, eyeing the drill with appreciation.

“It can make a hole in pure, compressed duranium,” Hranok told them proudly. “Whatever this alloy is it won’t be able to withstand our special tool.”

“Somehow I don’t find that thought particularly encouraging,” LaForge muttered darkly. 

He had a bad feeling about this. But the others were eager to find out what made the strange object tick and didn’t listen to his concerns any more than they had listened to Commodore Norsen’s warnings.

“It would be better if I operated the drill, sir,” Petty Officer Panun E’NI said to her boss, the soft hissing undertones of her voice every bit as exotic as her looks. “You know it tends to overheat. I’m less sensitive to high temperatures than Bolians or humans are.”

Data wanted to object, to argue that _he_ would have been the logical choice, being resistant to heat levels that would instantly kill every organic beings, but in the last moment he reconsidered. Ultimately, Bynax II was the responsibility of the Starbase crew. He could always step in, should the need arise.

The others agreed, and the Saurian petty officer activated the drill.

As she had warned in advance, the drill heated up fairly quickly, but the pale blue surface of the mysterious object remained unblemished. It didn’t even seem to react to the heat.

“Is it shielded somehow?” Commander Ford asked, annoyed by the complete lack of success.

“No, sir,” Data was taking readings with his tricorder. “If it were, the energy from the drill would have reflected back, killing the petty officer and everyone in close proximity.”

“And the metal around the drilling point _is_ heating up,” Geordi added before the commander could have started yelling at Data why he hadn’t warned them about it earlier; thanks to his VISOR, he could see that, even if the others couldn’t. “Just a great deal slower than one would expect. It’s an amazing alloy; if we could find a way to reverse engineer it, we could build a whole new generation of starships.”

“So we _can_ count on breaking through the hull eventually?” Ford clarified.

Chief Petty Officer Hranok nodded. “Oh, definitely, sir. T will just take a little longer than we’ve expected. But we _will_ break through eventually.

“Fools!” Commodore Norsen muttered angrily. “You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with!”

“Do _you_ know anything about it, sir?” Riker asked, his voice sharp. “Because if you do, you should tell us.”

“I know enough to leave alien artefacts that clearly don’t want to be bothered alone!” Norsen snapped, tugging on his beard angrily. 

But he refused to tell them anything else, so the two executive officers simply shrugged and ordered the Saurian to continue with the drilling.

By that time, the small area around the drilling point had heated up enough for the slight russet glow being visible to the naked eye.

“We’re coming close to the breaking point,” Data said, studying his tricorder. “It would be prudent to retreat to a safer distance and set the drill to auto-mode.”

The Saurian shook her head. “Can’t do that, sir. The precise location must be maintained. But don’t worry; my hide is a lot tougher than human skin.”

After a look at her gleaming scales Data reluctantly agreed to allow her to continue. He insisted, however, on monitoring her progress, and instructed O’Brien to keep a transporter look on the away team, just in case. Commander Ford made the same arrangements with the transporter chief of the _Cairo_.

The area surrounding the drilling point had now a visible ruddy glow, and it widened slowly but steadily.

“We’re getting close to break-through,” Chief Petty Officer Hranok said with satisfaction. “Just another minute or two…”

In the next moment there was a sharp, tearing sound as the drill broke through the blue metal hull of the object. It was followed by a low hiss and everyone was thrown back by the release of energy through the ragged tear. It blew against them like a sudden, violent gush of wind, hurling some of them as far as the nearby hillside.

Data was the only one who’d managed to withstand the onslaught of the energy release. Granted, he got knocked off his feet in the first moment, too, but he pressed himself to the floor reflexively and allowed it to pass over him. Then he rolled to the side and tapped his comm badge.

“ _Now_ , Mr O’Brien!”

There was no answer; nor did any transporter effect take place. The release of such a large amount of energy had clearly knocked out all communication with the two ships in orbit. Chief Petty Officer Hranok managed to contact his people in the command centre of the base, but their transporter could not beam out so many people at once.

“I told you to leave the object the hell alone!” Commodore Norsen fumed at Riker. ‘”But no, you _had_ to damage it, and now I must see how to save everyone from the results of your reckless stupidity! Hranok,” he turned his chief petty officer,” have the people beamed over to the base as soon as you can, and then transfer everyone back to our hiding place. Trust me; this here was just the beginning.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
His predicament proved true soon enough. Barely had the away team of the _Enterprise_ reached the C &C when the alarm klaxons aboard their ship started to howl again.

“Captain,” Worf glared at the readings of his tactical console with a worried scowl. “The alien ship is back. And sir… it’s shifting its shape again!”

“Onscreen!” Picard ordered.

The Klingon switched the image of the alien ship onto the main viewer and they saw that it was rearranging its structure indeed. The claw-like vertical extensions curled tighter around the central tower, all pointing to Bynax II now.

“Captain, the energy levels in those tubes are increasing,” Worf reported. “The object is obviously preparing to attack the planet!”

“Or it simply intends to lift its counterpart from the surface,” suggested Wesley, ignoring the Klingon’s eyeroll.

“Is it the same energy as the one the object on the planet released when we drilled into it?” Picard asked.

“Similar wavelength; but a great deal more power,” Ensign Clancy, LaForge’s temporary replacement replied grimly. “I don’t think this much power would be needed for a simple tractor beam, sir. I’m afraid Lieutenant Worf is right. Those tubes are definitely weapons.”

In the next moment the claw-like extensions opened up, emitting widely-fanned rays towards the planet.

“Captain!” Wolf said, alarmed. “The alien object is bombarding the planet with high-level radiation!”

“Analysis,” Picard ordered; then he contacted Transporter Room Three, “Mr O’Brien, can you get a lock on the people at the found site?”

“Negative, sir,” came the chief’s voice through the comm system. “I can’t even locate them anymore.”

“ _Merde_!” Picard took a deep, calming breath. “Mr Worf, contact the _Cairo_. Ask Captain Saavik if they’re having more luck.”

The Klingon shook his head. “Ship-to-ship communication is jammed by the alien object, sir.”

“Very well,” Picard said grimly. “Raise shields and charge phaser banks to full power. Try to kick that ship out without destroying it; but destroy it if we have no other chance to save our people down there.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when the Klingon had already executed his orders.

“No effect, sir,” he reported. “The object is _absorbing_ our phaser energy. We’re only making it stronger.”

“Could photon torpedoes have more effect?” Picard asked.

Worf shrugged his heavy shoulders. ”We can try, sir.”

“Make it so,” Picard ordered. He was _not_ going to sit there, allowing this hostile alien to murder the people down on the planet.

“Aye, sir,” Worf fired a full salvo of photon torpedoes at the alien object. “Torpedoes on the way.”

The effect was immediate – and fairly shocking. In the places where the torpedoes impacted upon the hull of the alien object, it became semi-liquid and absorbed them. Just as it has absorbed the phaser energy before.

“No damage, sir,” Worf stated the obvious. “This is a technology far beyond everything any Starfleet ship has ever encountered.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Picard demanded in painfully obvious frustration.

The Klingon shook his head. “Other than wish the starbase crew a good death? Nothing, sir.”


	4. Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the alien ship is based on a picture of The Dan Curry Gallery in “The Art of Star Trek”. The design was originally made as a possible version of the Caretaker’s Array for the Voyager pilot.  
> Nurse Temple is a canon character; McCusker is one, too, although not named in the episode “Evolution”, from which her lines were cut. I used the actress’s name who played her.
> 
> Beta read by my good friend, Linda Hoyland, whom I owe my gratitude.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 04 – DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?**

Five minutes later the alien object vanished again and communications – both ship-to-shop and with the planet – were restored.

“We’ve managed to get into hiding in time, Captain,” Riker reported, “but the _Cairo_ ’s away team and base personnel are experiencing heavy casualties. Their doctor is dead. and Commander Ford suffered multiple fractures when hurled against the hillside.”

“How many are dead?” Picard asked tonelessly.

“At least forty-five that I know of,” Riker answered. “Mostly humans; and the chief petty officer of the base. The Rigelian security detail of the _Cairo_ is in a bad shape, but they’ll survive. The only one unharmed amongst those caught in the open is the Saurian engineer; which is odd, considering that she was the one actually operating the drill.”

“And Data, I presume,” Picard said.

“Afraid not, sir,” Riker answered grimly. “He’s physically unharmed, of course, but shows signs of erratic behaviour. Geordi wants to take him back to the cybernetics lab and run a full system analysis.”

“Make it so,” Picard said. “Have all injured personnel beamed up to Sickbay; since the _Cairo_ has lost her chief medical officer, they’ll be better off in Dr Selar’s hands. I’ll clear it with Captain Saavik.”

Saavik agreed, of course. The _Cairo_ , being a small courier ship, had only had the one doctor and limited medical personnel. As a Vulcan, Dr Selar would be the best suited to treat the Rigelian security guards, given the similarities in their species’ physiology.

“If you have no objections, I would like to come over to the _Enterprise_ , Captain Picard," Saavik then said. “I need to speak with my surviving crewmembers; and we should question Commodore Norsen in person. There is still a lot he has not told us, and after what has just occurred on Bynax II, that is simply not acceptable.”

“Good luck with _that_ ,” Picard said dryly, knowing how stubborn his old friend could be. It was the privilege of old age to be unreasonable at times, but he agreed with Saavik: they could no longer afford to respect Ty Norsen’s personality quirks.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The transporter rooms of the _Enterprise_ worked at their full capacity during the next forty minutes to get not only the two away teams back aboard but also as many Starbase personnel as the ship was able to take in without becoming dangerously overcrowded. That included Commodore Norsen who had protested at first, insisting that he didn’t need protection – unlike his crew that obviously did.

But Picard overruled him in this matter. As the commanding officer of Starfleet’s flagship, he outranked his old friend, despite their respective ranks, and thus Commodore Norsen, too, was beamed aboard and got scheduled for a check-up at Sickbay, as soon as the injured had been treated. 

Said injured had already arrived at Sickbay and Dr Crusher and her colleagues had their hands full with helping them as well as they could. While Dr Selar and a team of nurses were taking care of the Rigelian security guards, some of whom were in a critical condition and might yet die, Dr Crusher and her team were running tests on Panun E’Ni, trying to figure out why she alone remained unharmed by the radiation bombardment of the alien object.

“I’m honestly baffled,” she confessed to her head nurse, Patti Temple. “She’s one hundred per cent healthy, according to Saurian norm, despite the fact that she’d been nearly gone into hibernation just a day or two ago due to the low temperatures of their hiding place. It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Perhaps the fact that she’s a Saurian might have played a role,” Nurse Temple suggested. “All casualties were from warm-blooded species.”

Dr Crusher frowned. “I don’t think so. Granted, Saurians have a higher general immunity against various types of radiation, but not even they can withstand Gamma rays.”

“Are we certain that it was actually Gamma radiation that hit the planet surface?” Nurse Temple asked doubtfully. “Hey, Mary!” she called over to her colleague, Nurse McCusker. “Have you found any radiation damage to the Rigelians?”

The pretty brunette, who was currently assisting Dr Selar’s team, shook her head.

“Not a trace. They seem to have suffered from some kind of thermic reaction; weren’t they Vulcanoids and thus more resistant to heat than humans, their inner organs would have been cooked by now.”

“Perhaps a virus that can cause a sudden, violent fever?” Dr Crusher guessed. “Since their skin doesn’t seem scorched or anything."

Nurse McCusker nodded. “Dr Selar is about to consult Dr Hacopian. If it’s a virus, he’ll find it, no matter how obscure it might be. If it isn’t, the engineers will have to figure out how an extremely destructive heat wave can cook one’s organs inside a seemingly unharmed body. I don’t envy them for that.”

“Which still won’t explain the Saurian’s immunity,” Dr Crusher said thoughtfully.

“It does, if the virus, or whatever it is, has been specifically constructed to destroy _human_ life – or anything close enough,” pointed out Nurse Temple. “Considering that reptiloids and other cold-blooded species have a much lower body temperature, adjusting such a weapon accordingly wouldn’t be too difficult.”

“That would explain why Data remained undamaged, in spite of being exposed to the weapon,” Dr Crusher agreed. “Well, let’s see what Dr Hacopian has to say; in the meantime we have patients to treat.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Contrary to Dr Crusher’s optimistic statement, Data didn’t seem truly undamaged, as he was standing in the middle of the cybernetics lab, naked as on the day he had been first activated, surrounded by a cylindrical diagnostic unit. Well… he _did_ look physically undamaged, as Commander Riker had already said; but he also appeared to be in the midst of some sort of malfunction.

Commander Riker’s report had indicated some vaguely described erratic behaviour. Ensign Clancy, representing Commander LaForge, who had remained on the surface, in case his special vision would be needed again, found that an understatement. In her eyes, the android behaved like a human with a massive identity crisis.

Which, considering the fact that Data was a machine, and as such incapable of human emotions, seemed impossible. And yet he displayed all the characteristic symptoms of such a crisis.

“I do not really understand my own behaviour, Captain,” he admitted when Picard came down to the lab to check on his condition. “Permission to return to my quarters, so that I can run a full system self-diagnosis, sir?”

“Granted,” Picard said. “But I don’t want you to do it on your own, Commander. Somebody should be with you, just in case.”

“But the only one who has at least a vague idea of what makes Commander Data tick is Geordi… I mean Commander LaForge,” Clancy reminded him. “We would need a diagnostic engineer who majored in cybernetics for that. I know, there’s always Broccoli, but I wouldn’t want _him_ messing around with the commander’s programming.”

Picard actually shuddered from the mere idea of _that_. Lieutenant Barclay, nicknamed Broccoli by the snot-nosed Wesley Crusher – a nickname that, unfortunately, stuck – was a fairly good diagnostic engineer, as long as the machines he was dealing with were just that: machines. That fact could not be denied.

Data, however, was a certified, sentient life form; one with a distinct and quite unique personality. Risking him to be permanently damaged, just because Barclay lost his nerve and screwed up was unthinkable.

There was another possibility, though.

“Ask Ensign Rina to join Data in his quarters,” Picard instructed Clancy.

LaForge’s second-in-command looked at him in surprise.

“But Captain, s/he’s a warp field specialist, not a cyberneticist,” she protested. “The commander would need a specialist to supervise that self-check!”

Picard sighed. “Let’s face it, Ensign: there simply aren’t any specialists when it comes to Data, unless we manage to resurrect Dr Soong somehow. Geordi is the closest thing we’ve got, and even he’s playing things by the ear half the time. However, Ensign Rina is a very gifted young… person, and sending hir to babysit Data for a while would solve two problems at the same time. Data would have somebody to keep an eye on him and Ensign Rina wouldn’t have to struggle to deal with the rest of Engineering without Geordi shielding hir.”

“I am capable of protecting Ensign Rina, sir,” Clancy said, a bit indignantly.

“No, you’re not,” Picard replied. “You may have the spirit but you don’t have the necessary authority. S/he’ll be safe with Data, though… and given how gifted s/he is, s/he might even prove helpful.”

Clancy still wanted to protest but Picard silenced her with an icy glare.

“You have your orders, Ensign, Commander. I suggest you carry them out. Dismissed.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
To say that Ensign Rina was surprised when the call to oversee Commander Data’s full-system self-check reached hir would have been an understatement.

“But I’m nor a diagnostic engineer!” s/he protested when Ensign Clancy told hir what s/he was supposed to do.

“Better you than Broccoli,” Clancy replied dryly. “Besides, the captain thinks you’d be better off with Data while Geordi is still down on the planet.”

“I can take care of myself!” Rina snapped indignantly.

Clancy sighed. “I know you can. Unfortunately, the rest of the engineering crew tends to become accident-prone around you when the chief isn’t there to screw their heads on right. And with that alien ship out there, we cannot afford any distractions. I’m sorry, Rina, but the captain’s right: this is the best solution for us all.”

Rina was deeply hurt – after all, it wasn’t hir fault that humans reacted to hir pheromones the way they did – but orders were orders and s/he _was_ a Starfleet officer. With an annoyed huff, s/he left Engineering and rode the turbolift to Deck 2, where Data’s quarters were situated.

S/he pushed the door buzzer and Data called hir in immediately. When s/he entered what was the typical living area of any senior officer’s quarters, s/he was greeted by a somewhat disturbing sight… even for an engineer.

The android was sitting at his fully computerized desk. Part of his head had been peeled open, so that one could see the blinking parts of his positronic brain beneath, and an access cable had been plugged into the centre of that particular area, connecting it with the central computer of the _Enterprise_.

“Ensign,” he said calmly. “How can I help you?”

Rina felt vaguely nauseous. S/he knew, in theory, that the Second Officer of the _Enterprise_ was a machine, of course. But knowing it and seeing the undeniable proof with one’s own eyes was a very different cup of tea.

“I thought _I_ was supposed to help _you_ ,” s/he replied. “Captain Picard ordered me to assist you with your self-check.”

“That is no longer necessary,” Data told hir. “I have already run a Level Three self-diagnostic program.”

“And?” s/he urged him on. “What did you find?”

“Nothing,” the android replied flatly. “There is no technical explanation for my erratic behaviour – the problem must be running deeper. There has to be a fatal programming error in my system.”

Not being a cyberneticist, Rina couldn’t make any useful comments to that.

“What are you planning to do then, sir?” s/he asked.

“I shall reprogram myself,” the android replied matter-of-factly. ”That way I can – what is the expression? – I can weed out anything negative in my system.”

Rina shook hir head doubtfully. “Are you sure you can do that, sir? I mean, there must be failsafes, installed by your creator, so that you won’t be able to tamper with your programming. You might end up causing yourself more harm than good.”

Data blinked thoughtfully. “That is a logical assumption, Ensign. However, I see myself forced to give it a try. Otherwise I would represent a grave risk for the _Enterprise_ and her crew.”

Rina still thought that it was a horrible idea (and a fairly stupid one at that) but the android seemed determined to follow that particular direction, and he outranked hir, after all. So s/he could do nothing but watch helplessly as Data opened up other parts of his head, attached more cables to his brain and connected them with various sections of the board computer.

Finally, when he looked like some bizarre, mechanical octopus, he declared himself ready to start the experiment.

“Computer,” he said. “Initiate self-correction programme Data Number two point three. Locate damaged programming sections and erase them. Afterwards reboot all systems immediately and install additional firewalls.”

“Working,” the impersonal female voice of the computer answered. “Initiating self-correction program _now_.”

For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then there was a low, whining noise that gradually rose in pitch until Rina’s sensitive ears hurt. Then, after less than a minute, the noise stopped – and Data tumbled from the chair to the floor and appeared to shut down completely.

“Commander!” Rina hurried to his side and shook his shoulders in alarm. “Are you all right?”

It was a stupid question, of course, and the android didn’t look as if he had heard or understood hir. After another moment, however, his yellow eyes snapped open.

“Accessing,” he said in a strangely mechanical voice that did not sound at all like his own. “Booting self-correcting mechanism. Adjustments in the positronic brain in progress.”

“I wish I knew what _that_ ’s supposed to mean,” Rina muttered unhappily. Then s/he raised hir voice a little. “Commander? Have you succeeded?”

“No,” Data replied, sounding a lot more like himself. “As you have predicted, Ensign, there were failsafes installed that prevented my attempts to reprogram myself.”

“Is it not possible that you’re approaching the problem from the wrong angle, sir?” Rina suggested. “Perhaps the best thing to do would be to go speak to Dr Crusher. _Or_ to Counselor Troi.”

“The best thing I can do is to stay by myself at the moment, Ensign,” Data replied. “Please leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but Captain Picard insisted…” Rina began but the android interrupted hir.

“That was not a request, Ensign. I _ordered_ you to leave my quarters. _Now_.”

Rina could not ignore a direct order from a superior officer. Not if s/he wanted to make a career in Starfleet. So s/he left Data’s quarters bud did not go any further than the end of the corridor. There s/he activated hir communicator.

“Ensign Rina to Captain Picard. Sir, Commander Data has just ordered me out of his quarters. And sir… I’m afraid his condition is getting worse.”

“Understood,” Picard replied. “Return to your regular duties, Ensign. I’ll take care of Commander Data.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
In the solitude of his quarters, the android had come to a decision. Before he would start, however, he found he owed his captain and his shipmates an explanation. Therefore he made one final log entry for them to understand what was he about to do and why.

**Second Officer’s personal log  
Stradate 43795.6  
Lieutenant Commander Data recording**

**After having failed in my attempt to reprogram myself and weed out the obvious failure in my system, I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer serve a useful purpose on the _Enterprise_. Therefore I must end my own existence before I would bring harm to anyone else.**

**Permanent system shutdown will be initialized in 12.7 minutes. Once it is completed, any attempts to recover the lost data would be futile. Lieutenant Commander Data out.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the shortness of this chapter. Originally it would have been the second part of Chapter 03, but it’s grown so long that I thought it would be better to split it in two parts.


	5. Switchback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Susan Calvin, here briefly mentioned by Deanna Troi, is a fictional character from Isaac Asimov's Robot Series. She was the chief robopsychologist at _US Robots and Mechanical Men, Inc._ , the major manufacturer of robots in the 21st century. She was the main character in many short stories from the books _I, Robot_ and _The Complete Robot_. (Wikipedia)  
>  Data’s specifics are from _The Star Trek Encyclopaedia_ by Denise and Mike Okuda. As always, I don’t own anything.
> 
>  _Nej_ means _No_ in Danish, which I assume is Commodore Norsen’s mother tongue.  
>  Beta read by my good friend, Linda Hoyland, whom I owe my gratitude.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 05 – SWITCHBACK**

Quite frankly, Captain Picard found himself torn between the events happening on the planet and the situation with Data. Once he had questioned Ensign Rina in more detail about what had happened in the android’s quarters, he summoned Commander Riker, Dr Crusher and Counselor Troi to his ready room for an emergency meeting, delaying the questioning of Commodore Norsen for the time being.

“I can’t give you any sound reason,” he said to Saavik apologetically, “but I’m quite certain that Data’s current malfunctions have something to do with the alien object.”

The Vulcan nodded in agreement.

“That seems only logical, Jean-Luc. Both are highly sophisticated machines with, at least on Commander Data’s part, an awareness of his self that makes him a life form, not just a walking, talking computer. However, I assume that this very fact also makes him vulnerable to the influence of another machine-mind that is at least as sophisticated as his own. Even if this other machine mind lacks his self-awareness.”

“So you don’t believe that the alien object is a life form?” Riker asked. “Or, at least, guided by some unknown life form? Like a crystalline intelligence of some sort?”

Saavik allowed herself a very un-Vulcanlike shrug. She had long given up trying to prove that she could display proper Vulcan restraint despite her mixed origins and chose to behave as it would fit any given situation best.

“That is a question I cannot answer,” she replied. “The erratic behaviour of the alien object – appearing and disappearing at random, rejecting any attempts to establish contact, firing at the outpost with what could be either a specifically calibrated nuclear weapon or a selective biological one – can signalize two diagonally opposite possibilities…”

The humans – plus one half-Betazoid – were getting a bit glossy-eyed.

“Please clarify, Captain,” Dr Crusher said. “You are losing me.”

“You’re not the only one,” Riker muttered.

Saavik folded her hands and pressed the tips of her index fingers against her lips in the typical Vulcan gesture of contemplation. Granted, in her case it was learned behaviour (and learned relatively late, compared with Vulcan children) but it looked very authentic nonetheless.

“What I mean is this: the alien object could be guided by an intelligence that has been damaged, hence its erratic behaviour,” she elaborated. “ _Or_ it was controlled by some very advanced programming that might or might not have suffered damage and is consequently malfunctioning… or not.”

“Could it possibly be some sort of doomsday weapon, programmed to wipe out humans?” Riker asked with a frown. “In that case the programming has been very sloppy, as it’s killing anyone else close enough to the human genome as well.”

“Or the deaths are merely an unfortunate side effect of whatever the true purpose of the object might be,” pointed out Saavik logically.

Dr Crusher shook her head. “What possible purpose could _that_ be, that the builders of that ship would allow it to wipe out an entire species in order to reach their goal? It makes no sense!”

“At least not for us,” Picard said. “Ambassador Sarek is reported to have said during the V’Ger crisis that it’s difficult to find the right answer if one doesn’t understand the question. I’m afraid that’s exactly our problem right now.”

“Agreed,” Saavik replied. “And since Commander Data’s malfunctions began in coincidence with the second appearance of the alien object, logic dictates that there must be a connection. Furthermore, understanding what has caused those malfunctions in the first place, might bring us closer to understanding the intentions and motivations of the alien object; or rather those of its builders.”

“Perhaps,” Picard allowed. “Unfortunately, I have no idea how we could figure out what’s happening to Data. He hasn’t been very forthcoming since the problems started.”

“If I may make a suggestion, Captain?” Picard nodded to Troi to continue. “I believe if we want to understand what’s going on with Data we need to call Geordi back. Not only is he the one who’s the most familiar with Data’s _systems_ , he’s also Data’s _friend_. If anyone can reach Data at all, it would be him.”

“But Geordi is needed down on Bynax II!” Riker argued. “His VISOR is the only thing that might detect any changes in the object we’ve discovered on the surface.”

“By all respect, Will, the VISOR could not warn you in of the attack of the spaceborn object,” Troi returned. “Finding the course of Data’s malfunctions, on the other hand, might help to stop those attacks just in time.”

“You are positive that there will be further attacks, then,” Saavik said.

It wasn’t really a question but Troi nodded nonetheless.

“Can you read any intentions from the alien object when it is in range?” the Vulcan continued.

Troi shook her head. “No; but I can’t read Data, either. I’m an empath, not a telepath – and connecting with a machine mind could overwhelm even the most powerful telepaths. They are simply too alien for an organic being to comprehend.”

“I don’t find Data’s personality particularly alien,” Dr Crusher said.

“That’s because he was designed to mimic human thinking and behaviour,” Troi said. “But if you could truly contact with his mind, if you could experience its real workings, you would be terrified by its different nature. An engineer would have a far better chance of understanding him than a doctor or a therapist.”

“Which is why you think we should get Geordi back,” Picard said. Troi nodded. “Very well. Make it so. Number One, I want you to go back to the planet and take command of the Starbase; we need a firm hand down there to prevent panic among those not yet evacuated. We’ll let Geordi deal with Data, while Captain Saavik and I’ll be dealing with my old friend.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Geordi LaForge was fairly shocked when he found the unresponsive android in his quarters upon returning to the Enterprise. _Data_ was sitting slumped in the chair behind his desk, like a puppet the strings of which had been cut, with the communications interface still blinking, signalling a recently recorded message. 

The android did not react to any stimuli, be they visual, audio or electronic. In fact, he looked exactly like in the few cases when he’d demonstrated the working of his off-switch.

“His energy levels are dangerously low,” Rina, whom Geordi had asked to assist him, reported, after using hir tricorder to check on the android. “As if he’d been shut down somewhat. Is that even possible?”

“Theoretically… yes,” Geordi replied. “But the only three people who know about it haven’t entered his quarters since he was sent back from the surface. What the hell has happened to him?”

“Well, he seems to have recorded a message,” Rina reminded him. “Perhaps we can learn more if we listen to it.”

“God, I hope so!” Geordi muttered; then he raised his voice a little. “Computer, replay last recorded message by Lieutenant Commander Data.”

The computer did as it was told and Geordi and Rina listened to Data’s last message in shock.

“I didn’t know he could do that to himself,” Geordi murmured. “The message was recorded less than twenty minutes ago; which means the shutdown process couldn’t have gone far yet. It’s still reversible – if only I knew _how_ to reverse it!”

“You said it’s possible to shut him down. What about using the same method backwards?” suggested Rina.

Geordi scratched his head. 

“I’m not sure if his off-switch can work as an on-switch, too; but since I can’t think of anything better, let’s give it a try,” he said. “I only hope he hasn’t gone into emergency shutdown mode; that would erase his entire programming for good.”

“Why would his creator give him the ultimate method for suicide?” Rina wondered.

Geordi pulled a face. “Dr Soong didn’t do that. Starfleet did.”

“But why?” Rina insisted. “Commander Data is one of his kind; and I’m sure he’s very useful as a Starfleet officer.”

“He also knows more about Starfleet’s strengths and weaknesses than anyone else, including the whole upper echelons,” Geordi explained grimly. “Should he get captured, and should his capturers manage to access his knowledge somehow, it would be the end of the entire Federation.”

“Can a single person truly represent such a risk?” Rina asked doubtfully.

Geordi sighed. “If that person is also the richest possible source of sensitive information _and_ he has the ability to hack into practically any computer system, then yeah, he can.”

He began fingering Data’s side, looking for his master off-switch, while Rina watched him with wide, surprised eyes.

“You know, if this is going to work, I’ll take you out to the holodeck to celebrate,” he said casually. “Any scenario you want – start making some thoughts about it.”

“I don’t need to,” s/he replied, watching his every move with interest. “I always wanted to go on a good old-fashioned picnic in a park – I just never had the right company for it.”

Geordi laughed. “You’re a cheap date!” Seeing hir confused frown, he added. “I mean, you don’t have very high demands.”

“Actually, I do,” s/he replied. “But they come regarding the character of my company… what are you doing there?”

“Trying to put your idea to good use,” Geordi finally found what he was looking for and pressed the switch through Data’s clothing. “Here we go… I hope.”

He was still speaking when Data’s eyes snapped open and the android looked around with the typical, brief disorientation after a full system reboot.

“Accessing,” he said in that flat monotone. “Shutdown sequence has been interrupted after nine minutes twenty-three seconds. Search functions for possible outside intervention is running…”

“No need for that, Data,” Geordi said, not quite capable of hiding his relief. “I simply used your master switch. Wasn’t sure it would work, but there was little else we could have done.”

“Geordi,” the android blinked several times. “You should not have interfered.”

“The hell I shouldn’t!” Geordi returned angrily. “You’re my friend, Data, did you really think I’d let you pull through with this stupid stunt?”

“You are mistaken, Geordi,” Data said calmly. “This was not a _stunt_ as you chose to call it. This was a conscious decision to prevent further tragedies from happening, made after a thorough analysis of all available facts.”

“Well, I happen to disagree,” Geordi replied. “And fortunately, so does the captain.” He touched his comm badge. “LaForge to Captain Picard.”

“Go ahead,” Picard’s voice answered.

“Captain, I’ve managed to reboot Data’s systems,” Geordi reported. “But he’s in a very odd mood, and I’m not sure he won’t try something stupid again.”

“Understood,” Picard fell silent for a moment. “Do you need any help down there, Geordi?”

“I’d gladly take any help I can get, Captain,” Geordi admitted. “Perhaps you can set him straight. You’re his commanding officer, after all; and he respects you greatly.”

“Counselor Troi might be of some assistance, too,” Rina offered softly. “I know Commander Data is not supposed to have emotions,” but I don’t think this is a technical problem, sir.”

“I see,” Picard paused again for a moment. “I’ll take your input under consideration, Ensign. Picard out.” And with that he broke the connection.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Geordi looked at Rina with a faintly amused expression. “You now, for somebody so new on board you’re remarkably free to offer your opinions.”

S/he gave him a hurt look. “I only wanted to help. On Briria, we are supposed to voice our opinions without express orders to help solve a problem. Especially if we’re experts in that particular field.”

Geordi scratched his head. “I understand, but…”

“I _am_ an expert at computer programming,” s/he interrupted him. “Though, admittedly, not at cybernetics.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t on Briria anymore,” Geordi reminded hir gently. S/he looked crestfallen, and Geordi took a deep breath to bring the facts over to hir carefully. 

“Look, I’m not saying that you were _wrong_ ,” he began. “But Starfleet captains prefer to _ask_ the opinions of those under their command first. I’m sure you covered proper etiquette at the Academy…”

S/he shook hir head in confusion. “But weren’t you the one who’s always encouraged me to tell you what I think about a problem?”

“Exactly!” Geordi prompted. “You have my permission to always tell _me_ what you think. The _captain_ , though, is a different matter.”

S/he still seemed a little confused but before s/he could have said anything, the door opened and in came Captain Picard, with Dr Crusher and Counselor Troi hot on his heals. The doctor hurried to Data’s side at once and scanned him with her medical tricorder thoroughly.

“I can find nothing wrong with his semi-organic parts,” she finally said. “His respiration and circulatory systems are working within normal parameters; thermal regulation and the distribution of the biochemical lubricants within his body are satisfactory.” She looked at Troi. “I think the problem belongs to your area of expertise, Deanna.”

The Betazoid shook her head. “Hardly. I’m not Susan Calvin, after all. I think the best way to find some answers would be to ask Data directly,” she turned to the android. “Data, why did you try to end your existence?”

To the surprise of the others Data answered readily enough.

“Because I represent a danger for the people on the surface,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I am responsible for their deaths. Therefore I must be permanently deactivated before I could cause any more harm.”

“Data, this is ridiculous!” Geordi protested. “You did nothing to endanger anyone! You weren’t the one who tried to drill a hole into the object on the surface. You weren’t even the one who ordered it done. That was Commander Riker. So why should you be responsible for the attack?”

Data opened and closed his mouth soundlessly several times, making a very convincing imitation of a traumatized goldfish.

“I do not know,” he finally admitted. “I only know that I _am_ responsible.”

“That makes no sense!” Geordi cried, frustrated.

“Actually, it does, in a hypothetical manner,” Troi said. “If Data has connected with the alien object – with either of them – however briefly, it _is_ possible that he’s absorbed part of their programming in the process. Or part of their self-awareness, assuming they have one.”

“You mean that he may have absorbed their guilt and now he believes it is his own?” Picard clarified.

Troi nodded.

“Can a machine actually _feel_ guilt?” Dr Crusher asked doubtfully.

“I don’t know,” Troi admitted. “But believing in one’s own responsibility doesn’t necessarily require any guilty _feelings_. One can come to that conclusion in a perfectly logical way. And _logic_ is something machines can do very well. Better than us organics, in fact – if we leave the Vulcans out of consideration.”

“And how does this help us?” Picard asked.

“It doesn’t,” Troi replied bluntly. “In fact, this brings us into an undesirable situation. You can usually talk an organic being, a human or a Betazoid or any other, out of suicide…”

“Unless they’re Klingons, thinking that they’ve lost their honour,” Geordi commented.

“True,” Troi said. “However, Klingons are an anomaly in that area. Most organics prefer life over death and can be talked into staying alive unless suffering from severe mental illness that interferes with their judgement. If a _machine_ comes to the conclusion that deactivating themselves is the only logical step, no amount of pep talk would change their minds – for the single reason that they’re not _capable_ of changing their minds in such a situation.”

“That is correct,” Data said simply. “Organic beings have a moral compass that steers their decisions. We machines have a programming.”

Picard shook his head. “I’m not letting you shut yourself down, Data. And since you don’t seem to be very perceptive to our arguments, that doesn’t leave me any alternative than to restrict you to your quarters.”

He touched his comm. badge. “Picard to Worf.”

“Worf here,” came the Klingon’s deep voice from the loudspeakers.

“Mr Worf, send a security detail to Commander Data’s quarters. We need to make sure he doesn’t do anything… _drastic_.”

“Aye, sir,” and with that Worf signed out.

“Captain, this is a useless waste of resources to assign guards to my quarters,” Data pointed out logically. “I can initiate a complete system shutdown without them noticing a thing.”

“Thank you, Mr Data, I’ll bear that in mind,” Picard replied dryly.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Five minutes later the security guards arrived. Picard ordered them to stand watch inside the living area.

“I want to be notified if Commander Data as much as _appears_ to be doing something he shouldn’t be doing, right down to closing his eyes,” he told them.

“He’s doing it right now,” Geordi warned him.

“I see that,” Picard replied. “I’m afraid, though, I do not really know what else I can do. Besides, I’ve got other, equally pressing matters to deal with at the moment; matters with which I also need your input, Counselor.”

“Commodore Norsen,” Troi said.

It wasn’t really a question but Picard nodded nevertheless.

“Commodore Norsen” he agreed. “It’s time that we revealed his actual role in this disaster.”

“And I’ve got dozens of wounded people in Sickbay,” Dr Crusher added. “But somebody should stay with Data, just in case we need to reboot his systems again.”

“I’d do it but I’m needed in Engineering,” Geordi said unhappily. “Worf wants the shield generators at one hundred and twenty per cent, and given what happened to the planetary base, I can’t blame him.”

“I can stay with the commander,” Rina offered. “He didn’t seem to mind my presence before. And I’m a good enough engineer to take notice if he tries to shut himself down again. I’ll call for help if necessary, I promise.”

For a moment Picard stared at hir intently. S/he glared back at him in defiance. Finally the captain nodded.

“Very well. Let’s make the best of a really bad situation. Dismissed.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Leaving Data in his quarters under guard and in Ensign Rina’s sympathetic company, Picard and Troi returned to the captain’s ready room where Saavik was still waiting for them patiently. She was not alone, though. Commander Ford had insisted on being present at Commodore Norsen’s questioning and Dr Selar had brought him up from Sickbay in a wheelchair.

Commodore Norsen, who had been put up in one of the diplomatic VIP suits, showed up last, looking haggard and anxious – so very different from the dynamic, self-confident man Picard had known most of his adult life. For the first time he could remember, Norsen actually showed his age. The experienced, battle-hardened Starfleet veteran was gone and what was left was a broken old man.

He slumped into one of the chairs and looked at Picard tiredly.

“What do you want from me, Jean-Luc? I’ve failed to protect my people. Obviously, I’m too old to be of any use as a commanding officer. I’ve tried. God is my witness how I’ve tried… but you’ve seen yourself the mess my failure has caused. So many people are dead – if only they had listened to me and stayed put! If only _your_ executive officer had listened to me and left that object on the planet alone; we might have stayed under the radar. But these bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young boys always think that we old people are idiots. Perhaps they’re right, though…”

“What I want to know,” Picard interrupted the old man’s ramblings, “is this: Do you have some kind of unholy alliance with this killer object?”

Norsen pulled a face. “Melodramatic much, aren’t we? Your French inheritance is showing through, Jean-Luc.”

Picard ignored the jibe. “You haven’t answered my question, Commodore.”

“No, I haven’t,” Norsen replied, suddenly furious. “Because it is an idiotic question! May I point out that I was the one who warned Starfleet of the impending danger in the first place? And my I _also_ point out that my predicament has turned out correct?”

“That is certainly true, Commodore,” Saavik answered calmly. “However, you have yet to explain just how you were able to come to this conclusion.”

“I don’t have to explain _anything_ to _you_!” Norsen snapped. “I warned Starfleet of the danger and asked for help. Had we been evacuated at once, instead of Commander Riker poking at the planet-bound object, nobody would have died and we could have sat out the crisis until the alien ship left.”

The accusation hung heavily in the air between them. Commander Ford, who hadn’t been entirely innocent in the ‘poking at the planet-bound object’ part, tried to find a more comfortable position in his wheelchair before speaking up.

“With all due respect, Commodore, that’s far from certain,” he returned. “We can’t know if our shields would be of any protection against that infernal weapon… and we won’t know until the analysis is completed. We may still get grilled inside our ships if that… _thing_ shows up again.”

“ _Nei, nei_!” Norsen protested. “We’re safe in the ships. Only planetary outposts are in danger.”

“You cannot know that,” Saavik said.

The old man locked his jaw stubbornly. “Yes, I can.”

“ _How_?” Picard demanded.

But the commodore refused to answer that, and they couldn’t get any more information out of them. So, after a few unsuccessful attempts, Picard adjourned the meeting.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
I can’t understand why he won’t tell us the truth,” he said to Troi afterwards, frustrated. “Whom is he protecting – and why?”

“I don’t think he is protecting anyone,” Troi answered slowly. “I have the impression that Commodore Norsen doesn’t really know where this warning has originally come from, either.”

“A telepathic suggestion?” Saavik asked doubtfully.

“That seems the most likely cause, yes,” Troi replied. “Which still doesn’t reveal where the suggestion came from, of course. And if Commodore Norsen is susceptible to such an influence, he needs to be watched around the clock. Just like Data.”

“Do you assume there is a connection between their actions?” the Vulcan asked.

Troi shrugged. “It would be too much of a coincidence, don’t you think? The universe is seldom so lazy.”

Saavik inclined his head her head in reluctant agreement.

“I’m still not convinced that we’re really safe inside in our ships,” Commander Ford said. “Do you believe that we are, Counselor?”

“I know that Commodore Norsen firmly believes that,” Troi replied. “And he’s been right where the danger is concerned. So we might be better off evacuating the planetary base, just to be on the safe side.”

“That would lead to some very close quarters on both ships, though,” Picard said.

“Better crowded than dead,” Commander Ford commented philosophically, and it would have been hard to argue with _that_.

“All right,” Picard looked at Worf who was currently acting as the executive officer in Riker’s absence. “Lieutenant, continue with the evacuations. And make sure the phaser crew is at full alert, just in case. I have the uncomfortable feeling that this crisis is still far from being over.”


	6. With the Weapons of a... Bridrani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Data’s unique definition of friendship is quoted from the TNG episode “Time’s Arrow”.  
> The components of his body are listed in “The Star Trek Encyclopedia” by Denise and Mike Okuda.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 06 – WITH THE WEAPONS OF A … BRIDRANI**

Back in Data's quarters Rina watched the android, who was slumped in his chair, his eyes closed, and seemed to be completely dead, with mild dismay.

"You can stop the theatre, Commander," s/he said when Picard and the others had left the room. "Believe it or not but I can actually tell if you're in true shutdown mode or merely pretending. You're clearly pretending now."

Data opened his eyes and looked at hir earnestly.

“You should not be upset, Ensign,” he said.

“I’m not,” s/he replied bluntly. “At least not about your equivalent of histrionics. I _am_ upset because your stupid antics are upsetting Geordi… I mean, Lieutenant LaForge, and he doesn’t deserve that you do this to him.”

“I am not doing anything to Geordi!” Data protested in honest confusion.

Rina shook hir head in exasperation. “You really are clueless, aren’t you? He’s your _friend_ ; of course he’s upset by the possibility of losing you! Surely, even though you’re an artificial life form, you must have some concept of friendship.”

The question seemed to surprise the android.

“But of course,” he said. “As I experience certain sensory input patterns, my mental pathways become accustomed to them. The inputs eventually are anticipated and even missed when absent.”

Rina needed a moment to sort _that_ in hir head.

“Exactly,” s/he then said. “Now imagine what it is like for us, organics, who feel emotional pain when those… _sensory input patterns_ are absent. Especially if that absence is permanent. People don’t deal well with such losses; and Geordi… Lieutenant LaForge doesn’t have many close friends.” 

“That is not correct,” Data said. “Everyone likes Geordi.”

“Yes, they do,” Rina allowed. “He’s a friendly, easy-going man by his very nature. But he also feels as some kind of outsider because of his… er… _special vision_. As far as I can tell, there are only three people he trusts to actually see him, as a person, not just his VISOR. One is Commander Riker. The other one is Lieutenant Worf. And the third one are you.”

“What about you?” Data asked. “I had the impression that you do not identify Geordi through his VISOR, either.”

“I don’t,” s/he replied. “But my status is different. He’s my direct superior; I’m his pupil. I’m not his equal the way you three are. He can’t afford to lose you. He _needs_ you, no matter what you might believe you have done… or _haven’t_ done.”

The android seemed to ponder that aspect of things for a moment.

“But I am out of control,” he then said. “I am dangerous.”

“Of course you are,” Rina agreed. “We are all dangerous, due to what we’re capable of doing, every single one of us.”

“I thought one would consider Lieutenant Worf dangerous,” Data said thoughtfully. “Or Commander Riker, when he is in the mood. I never considered myself a threat. My failsafes have always worked within normal parameters.”

“There are different kinds of danger,” s/he answered. “Not all are so obvious as an ill-tempered Klingon in the middle of a bunch of pacifists. Why, do you think, Lieutenant LaForge needs to shield me from the rest of the engineering crew most of the time?”

“I do not know,” Data confessed. “I thought your team-mates liked you.”

Rina laughed ruefully. “They do. That’s the problem. They like me too much – unfortunately, not for the person that I am. My pheromones, when I’m in stress, are too strong for humans to resist… and Engineering is a stressful environment. They can’t afford to be distracted at work – and I am a distraction, whether I want it or not.”

“Are you not at heat suppressants?” Data asked with a very human-looking frown.

Rina nodded. “I am. But they don’t neutralize my pheromones completely. That’s not possible – unless you kill me. Which is why Starfleet was initially so reluctant to accept Bridrani serving on a starship.”

“That seems quite illogical,” Data said. “They accept Deltans, after all. And Deltan pheromones are every bit as powerful as yours – if not even more so.”

“Yes, but Deltans are a much older race; one that is capable of regulating the biological functions of their bodies at will,” Rina explained. “We don’t have that advantage – not _yet_. Perhaps one day, in the distant future, we will learn how to achieve the mind-over-matter state, but we aren’t there yet. Not for a long time.”

“You can really make people do your bidding?” Data asked.

They were talking in low voices and the security guard at the door gave them their privacy.

Rina nodded. “Anytime. I try _not_ to do it, though.”

“Would you make an exception for me?” Data continued.

S/he stared at him in shock. “ _What_?”

“I need a favour,” the android replied. “I would like to see the stars one last time. Could you perhaps take me to the observation lounge?”

S/he gave him a suspicious look. “What’s your game, Commander? ’Cause I know that sentimentality is not part of your programming. That would require emotions, which you supposedly don’t have.”

“That is correct,” Data said. “However, it would be better for your Starfleet career to pretend that you believe me. You are new on board, you do not know me well enough; people will believe you.”

“Perhaps; but the captain’s confined you to quarters,” s/he pointed out. “If I risk getting an official reprimand for helping you violate his orders, I think the least you owe me is an explanation.”

“If I tell you the truth and you help me anyway, your Starfleet career might be over,” Data warned her. “Even if it saves both ships and the people still stuck on Bynax II.”

“It is my risk to take,” s/he answered stubbornly. “Tell me!”

“Very well,” Data paused for a moment. “The danger is still far from being over. Commodore Norsen believes that we are safe inside our ships; and for the moment it may be true. But it will not last. The alien ship… it is _learning_. Soon it will realize that the ships are populated by humans, too – and then we will be attacked and destroyed… unless I do something about it.”

“You can protect us?” Rina asked in awe.

“I believe so; although there are no guarantees,” Data admitted. “But I cannot do anything confined to quarters.”

“Where do you have to go?”

“It is better for you if you do not know. Let us pretend that I got sentimental and blinded you and you naïvely helped me, believing that you were just doing a distraught shipmate a favour,” he paused again. “Will you do it? The lives of everyone are at stake.”

Rina rolled hir eyes. “For a machine, you’re quite the manipulative bastard, sir, do you know that?”

“I take that as a compliment,” he answered earnestly.

“All right,” Rina sighed. “Let’s give it a try. Though I’m sure I’ll regret this in the next ten minutes, tops. But if I get booted out of Starfleet for this you’ll be the one to find me a new job.”

“Ensign,” Data said gravely. “If we fail I will likely be court-martialled and dismantled. You would better ask Geordi to put in a word for you.”

S/he stared at him in shock, trying to gouge if he was joking – then s/he realized how unlikely _that_ was. The utter gravity of the situation made hir scared. But s/he was not about to back off. Yes, it would probably turn out to be the biggest mistake of hir life. But s/he had promised to help and s/he always kept hir promises.

Briefly considering what would be the best route of action, s/he carefully released a small amount of the Bridrani equivalent of endorphins and watched the big, burly security officer at the door relax slightly. His grim face eased into a somewhat friendlier expression; in fact, he almost smiled to himself. _Almost_.

Rina strolled over to him and gave him another dosage of hir happiness hormones.

“Ensign Burke,” s/he said with a bright smile. “It seems that Commander Data is recovering.”

Burke wasn’t quite buying that from hir.

“What makes you think so?” he asked doubtfully.

Rina beamed at him in a way that would make most men (and quite a few women, too) weak-kneed at once.

“I’ve managed to talk him out of shutting himself down,” s/he told the man brightly. “He even made the request to see the stars again. Do you think we could take him to the observations lounge?”

Burke frowned. Apparently, he was made of sterner stuff than most men. _Or_ he had a natural immunity against Bridrani pheromones. Unlikely as _that_ seemed, it was not entirely impossible.

“I don’t know,” he said. “When the captain confines somebody to quarters, they’re supposed to stay there, you know. Until the _captain_ says otherwise.”

Rina blinked with hir impossibly long lashes most endearingly.

“Of course. However, I’m not suggesting letting the commander go wherever he pleases. This would be merely a short trip to the observation lounge, to lift his spirits.”

“I dunno,” Burke said uncertainly, his resistance crumbling under the onslaught of hir pheromones. “Perhaps we should notify the captain first…”

“Oh, absolutely!” Rina agreed, dosing him again. “I’ll do so myself, as soon as we are in the observation lounge. The captain will be overjoyed to hear that the commander is better. You know how much he values him.”

That sounded very logical, at least for Burke’s hormone-addled brain. Besides, what could have possibly happened? He was about to accompany them in the lounge, wasn’t he? Commander Data would remain under guard, just as the captain had ordered.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They left the android’s quarters and headed for the nearest turbolift. Entering the cabin, Burke named their destination himself… and then collapsed without forewarning as soon as the ‘lift started moving.

Data looked at Rina questioningly.

“He passed out from a light overdosis of endorphins,” s/he explained. “Don’t worry; he will recover in no time. You did want to get rid of him for whatever you’re planning to do, did you not?”

Data nodded. “That is correct. And I am sorry but I will have to incapacitate you as well – for your own protection.”

Before Rina could have reacted in any way, Data’s hand sneaked out. S/he felt a sharp pressure pain where hir shoulder muscles met hir neck, and then she, too, crumpled onto the cabin floor, knocked out cold by a perfectly executed Vulcan neck pinch.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Down on Bynax II, evacuation was going on a lot more slowly than Riker would have preferred. The planetary base was a huge and mostly self-supporting outpost, due to its location out of the way of the main interstellar trade lines, and the environmental engineers flat out refused to leave the infrastructure behind without following proper emergency shutdown protocols to the smallest detail – despite the recent alien attack.

“We need to preserve basic functions and secure the buildings,” one of them explained with forced patience. “In case we – or somebody else – will get the chance to return one day. If we just leave the generators behind they’ll run dry within months, and whoever gets to restart work here would have to rebuild the power structure from square one. We’ve worked too long and too hard to just let it go to waste.”

“But every minute you spend here increases the danger for you all!” Riker argued, exasperated by so much stubbornness. “Generators can be replaced. Lives cannot.”

The engineer – another Saurian, though from a different subspecies, and a male one – gave him an unfriendly look. Male Saurians might be less aggressive than females but they took great pride in their work and could out-stubborn a Klingon on a good day. And this was definitely _not_ a good day, for any of them.

“By all due respect, Commander, we were doing well enough here without your interference, so please let us do our jobs,” he returned. “We know what we are doing here – do _you_?”

Riker stomped down on his own anger. The man was a civilian, he couldn’t reprimand him for insubordination. _Or_ for talking to a superior officer in an improper manner.

“The number of deaths doesn’t exactly prove that you were doing particularly well here,” he said instead.

The engineer shrugged; a gesture he’d probably picked up from his human crewmates because it looked decidedly odd for him.

“We hadn’t been attacked by _anyone_ until you started poking at the planet-bound alien object. Perhaps that was what provoked the attack. Perhaps the spaceborn alien object was merely protecting one of its own kind.”

Riker was just about to give a man a thorough dressing down – civilian or not, he was not going to let anyone mouth off at him like that – when his comm. badge chirped. It was Ensign Baila, Worf’s right-hand man for the quick and dirty work.

“Commander,” he said, sounding very uncomfortable, “you should come to the C&C. I think we’re having a problem here.”

Jerôme Baila was remarkably similar to Worf: a big, beefy, dark-skinned man, save for the long hair and the forehead ridges, who took everything in a stoic stride, just like his immediate superior. If he spoke of a _problem_ , things were most likely looking dire.

“On my way,” Riker answered him; then he gave the Saurian a glare. “And you try to speed up things here, Mister. In case you haven’t realized yet, we’re on borrowed time.”

The engineer snapped to attention and gave him an exaggerated salute. “Sir, yes, sir! Whatever you say, sir!”

The others engineers snickered. Riker decided to let it slip – not that he’d have had any other choice against a bunch of _alien_ civilians – and hurried off to the C &C with the feeling of impending doom.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Now that he actually got the chance to take a closer look at it – he had been too busy at both previous times – the command and control centre of the planetary Starbase was an impressive sight to behold. Even with the pandemonium currently filling it.

The alarm klaxons were blaring through the large room, announcing that the Starbase was now on red alert. The emotionless feminine voice of the central computer droned over the sound, informing everyone of the progress of the evacuation procedures and that they should go to their assigned safety areas and wait for getting beamed up to one of the starships.

All Riker needed to size up the scene around him was a quick glance; this wasn’t the first Starbase he had visited. He easily identified the individual duty stations, all of which were manned, and a check of C&C’s primary situational displays told him that they had full shield capacity and that said shields could be raised at any moment if necessary. 

Currently the defensive systems were at standby, so that they would not interfere with the _Enterprise_ and the _Cairo_ ’s transporters, but that could be changed by a single keystroke.

Riker crossed the room and signalled for the alarm sirens to be shut down; it was impossible to lead a conversation through all that noise. After a moment the sirens blessedly faded, though the crimson indicators of red alert continued to flash, reminding them that the danger wasn’t quite over yet.

Riker looked around for Baila and found the security officer at what was called “the hub” – the central control table of the base, with its eight integrated workstations. Each of these was tied into the Starbase’s primary systems, making it possible for the duty officer in charge of C&C to monitor or control practically every aspect of the outpost’s life.

Not seeing anything that would represent any immediate threat, Riker glared at Baila impatiently. “Status report!”

“Evacuation is going on according to emergency shutdown protocols,” Baila reported, rising from where he’d been hunched over the computer interface. “It is not going as fast as we would like but the Starbase crew needs to make all necessary precautions.”

Having already had a fruitless discussion with the engineers about _that_ , Riker ignored the comment.

“Well?” he asked. “Where’s the problem then?”

“Here, sir,” the security officer opened one of the side doors that led to a small cubicle, originally meant for the duty engineer to store his or her toolkit and spare parts in.

Right now, there weren’t any tools or spare parts in the cubicle, though. There was, standing upright and staring before himself unblinkingly, was Data.

“I see your problem,” Riker said when he recovered from his surprise. “Haven’t we beamed him back to the _Enterprise_ a couple of hours ago?”

“We have, sir,” Baila agreed. “And Lieutenant LaForge, too, has recently returned to the _Enterprise_ to try figure out what was wrong with him. Just before you would beam down to take over the organizing of evacuation procedures.”

“And we had no word from the _Enterprise_ announcing his return?” Riker was fairly sure they hadn’t, but it was better to check all his facts before making any assumptions.

Baila shook his head. “None, sir. In fact, I suppose they may not even know he’s gone. The commander has a way with the ship’s computer.”

“True,” Riker admitted. “Well, I think it would be prudent to contact the captain and as him what does he know about the whole thing.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Picard was – understandably – as much surprised by Riker’s news as his executive officer had been.

“I had Data confined to quarters, for his own protection,” he said. “That’s where he’s still supposed to be. Hold on, Number One, we’ll check on his location,” he turned to Worf. “Contact the security detail you’ve assigned to Data’s quarters, Lieutenant!”

“No answer, sir,” the Klingon reported a moment later. “Ensign Burke’s communicator is located in one of the turbolift cabins but he doesn’t answer my calls.”

“Try Ensign Rina,” Picard ordered.

Worf carried out his orders; then he shook his massive head.

“Same thing, Captain. Hir communicator seems to be in the same place but s/he isn’t answering, either. Neither does Data; and I am unable to locate him.”

“I see,” Picard said grimly. “Dispatch a security detail to the turbolift cabin where Ensigns Burke and Rina may or may not be. And start a ship-wide search for Data. He _might_ be able to destroy his comm badge, but there are other ways to find him.”

“We could scan for the inorganic components of his body,” Crewman Pacelli, currently on duty at one of the Engineering control screens, suggested. “Fortunately, they are quite unique. Tripolymer composites and molybdenium-cobalt alloys are not easily overlooked, even if covered in bioplast sheeting.”

Picard nodded. “That is an excellent suggestion, Crewman. Make it so, Mr Worf.”

“Aye, sir,” the Klingon replied dutifully as he started the search.


	7. The Twin Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The components of Data’s body are listed in “The Star Trek Encyclopedia” by Denise and Mike Okuda.  
> The security officers Aron, Burris, Nagel and Tallman are canon, and so is Lieutenant Wallace; the ones never named on screen bear the name of the actors who played them. Dr Hacopian, while in theory also a canon character, was never actually seen. I decided to make him a Denobulan, for the sake of canon continuity.  
> The gravimetric clamps are my invention. They probably wouldn’t work within the structure of Star Trek technology, but I wanted something that could actually make Data immobile.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 07 – THE TWIN DILEMMA**

It didn’t take Worf’s security team long to find the two unconscious ensigns in the turbolift cabin in which their comm. badges had been located. Crewman Aron, the leader of the team, scanned them with his tricorder… and frowned.

“These readings make no sense at all,” he said. “I can’t find any visible reason why they shouldn’t be awake. No head trauma, no phaser burns… nothing!”

“Perhaps the phaser was set to light stun only,” Crewman Burris, a newbie to Security suggested.

Aron shook his head. “Had they been hit by a phaser, even by one set to Grade One stun, the tricorder would pick up the energy residue. There wasn’t any weapon used; at least none that we know.”

The third member of the team, a tall, wiry, red-headed woman from a frontier colony, whose strength and reaction time had been greatly enhanced by biomechanical implants after a grievous injury, asked for the tricorder and scanned the two unconscious forms again.

“The girl seems to be all right,” she said. “Her neural activity has been briefly interrupted, but she should come to with nothing worse than a headache, I’d say.”

“She’s not a _girl_ , Tallman,” Aron reminded her.

She shrugged. “Close enough.”

The fact that Rina looked next to her like a fragile porcelain doll made her reaction understandable. She was also a certified and very experienced field medic – though not a doctor – whose opinions her colleagues valued and respected.

“What about Burke?” Aron asked.

Tallman shrugged again. “Not a clue. I haven’t seen such brain activity by a human before.”

“But you’ve seen it by other species?” Burris asked with interest.

She nodded. “I had to restrain an unusually aggressive Vulcan once. Turned out he was on the threshold of his first _pon farr_ , which made him irrational and easily provoked. The scans of his brain activity showed a somewhat similar pattern.”

“But Burke isn’t a Vulcan!” blurted out Burris, stating the glaringly obvious.

“No,” Tallman agreed. “Which is why we should take him – both of them, actually – to Sickbay. Perhaps Doctor Selar can interpret more from these scans than we do. She’s a Vulcan; she ought to know more about such things.”

Aron saw sense in her suggestion, so he asked for a site-to-site transport to Sickbay. Ensign Herbert from Transporter Room Three acknowledged the request and a moment later, five sparkling columns of energy engulfed them, and the turbolift cabin was free to be used again.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Doctor Selar had already been summoned by the time they rematerialized in Sickbay. The security officers helped to lift their unconscious shipmates onto the biobeds in the examination area and Nurse Temple and the medical technician on duty, Crewman Zerbst, activated the overhead sensor clusters above both beds and started to take readings.

“Look at this, Doctor,” said Nurse Temple, a pretty brunette with arched eyebrows that made her look almost like a Vulcan, save for the lack of pointy ears. “His scans show a definite hormonal overbalance. Almost as if he’d been sexually stimulated beyond his endurance.”

“Not really surprising, seen next to whom he’s been found,” the medical technician commented. “There isn’t much on record about the working of Bridrani pheromones, but it’s a known fact that Deltans, for example, can knock out a man – or a woman, for that matter – by simply drenching them in their pheromones. Perhaps something similar has happened here.”

Selar raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“I do not believe that Ensign Rina would wilfully endanger a fellow crewman this way,” she stated. “S/he is a very disciplined person for hir age, with a strong moral compass, as you humans would say. Besides, that theory does not explain _hir_ condition. Bridrani are not affected by their own pheromones.”

“Unless they’re in heat,” Zerbst reminded her.

“That is correct,” Selar allowed. “However, Ensign Rina is on heat suppressants. I have administered the necessary shots regularly, ever since s/he came aboard. No; there has to be a different reason for hir condition. Have the scans shown anything conclusive?”

“Nothing; save for some bruising to hir trapezoid nerve bundle,” the medical technician replied, checking his readings. “It seems as if the neuron fibres had been injured somehow.”

“Interesting,” Selar walked over to Rina’s biobed to check the reading herself.

As she was doing so, her right eyebrow crept higher and higher, until it nearly touched the roots of her hair. Her expression became as bland as only that of a _very_ surprised Vulcan could be.

“Computer,” she said. “Check the location of every Vulcan on this ship during the last standard minutes. Create a diagram of their whereabouts and put the pattern of their movements on the secondary viewscreen of the examination room.”

“Working,” the artificial voice of the board computer answered, and less than twenty second later the requested diagrams appeared on the screen. “Task completed.”

The security officers were watching the proceedings in bewilderment.

“Why do you want to know where the other Vulcans have been in the last hour or so?” Aron finally asked.

“Because the bruises to Ensign Rina’s trapezoid muscle are characteristic for the trauma caused by the technique that humans have nicknamed the Vulcan neck pinch,” Selar answered calmly. 

The humans stared at her somewhat shocked, but she continued on with her deductions unerringly. 

“Logic dictates therefore that one of my own kind should be the primary suspect. However,” she gestured at the viewscreen, “this movement pattern shows that none of the resident Vulcans have been in that particular turbolift cabin in the last forty minutes.”

“Vulcans aren’t the only ones capable of using the neck pinch, though,” Tallman said in a tone that suggested that _she_ , too, would be able to do so.

Selar nodded in agreement. “That is true. I know that Captain Picard has been taught to use the technique… as well as Commander Data.”

“Who has just gone missing, and the people assigned to watch him found unconscious in a ‘lift cabin,” Aron continued for her grimly. “I think we should report this to the captain; and then rejoin the search troops.”

“And _we_ need to put Ensign Burke under a restraining forcefield,” Selar said to her co-workers. “Ensign Rina will be leaking stress hormones copiously once s/he regains consciousness; and Mr Burke has been affected by hir biochemistry heavily enough already.”

“Perhaps it would be best if we put Ensign Rina into the biohazard isolation unit until s/he recovers,” Nurse Temple, who happened to have a degree in xenobiology, suggested. “If s/he isn’t in full control of hir pheromones, that could cause all sorts of problems for the other patients… _and_ for medical personnel. Better to be precautious.”

Selar nodded. “That is an excellent suggestion, Nurse. Please make the necessary arrangements while I inform Captain Picard.”

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“Are we sure that it was Data who attacked Ensign Rina?” Picard asked half an hour later, when the search party reported in that the android was not in his quarters and that they still had not found any trace of him. 

“No, sir,” Worf replied. “All we know is that he left his quarters in the company of Ensigns Burke and Rina and entered the turbolift next to them. From then on he has simply vanished and we can’t tract down his comm badge.” 

"Has the scanning for his inorganic components turned up any results?” Picard asked. 

“None, sir,” the Klingon confessed unhappily. “He’s either in one of the heavily shielded areas that confuse the internal sensors and camouflage his presence, like the warp core – there are a few such places on board, and we are checking them, one after another – or he’s already left the ship.” 

“That’s something we can easily check,” the captain touched his comm badge. “Picard to Transporter Room Three.” 

“Ensign Herbert here, sir,” the operator on duty replied immediately. 

“Ensign, check the transporter records and tell me what time did Commander Data beam down to Bynax II,” Picard ordered. 

“One moment, sir,” Herbert paused, obviously calling up the logs, and when he spoke again, he sounded surprised. “Captain, no-one has beamed down since Commander Riker left. In fact, the only time the transporter has been used for anything else but evacuating Starbase personnel was when I beamed Crewman Aron and his security team directly into Sickbay.” 

“I see,” Picard said, equally surprised. “Thank you, Mr Herbert.” 

He broke the connection and looked at Troi. “Do you have any suggestions, Commander? Because I really could use one right now.” 

“I think the only person who could answer our questions is Data himself,” Troi replied thoughtfully. “So, since he seems to be on Bynax II at the moment, however he’s managed to get there, why don’t we have him beamed back up and see if Geordi can find out anything from him?” 

“We’ve already tried that, and it didn’t work,” Picard reminded her. 

“Then let’s try it again,” Troi said. “Whether it works this time or not, we can’t let him stay on the planet unguarded. And Will has more urgent things to do right now.” 

“I concur,” Worf growled. “I also suggest heavy restrains before beaming him up again. And I’ll double security in Transporter Room Three.” 

Troi shook her head in quiet disdain. “Do you really think it will be necessary?” 

“Yes,” Worf replied bluntly. “He has already escaped once and presumably attacked at least one member of the crew. His behaviour was erratic on the planet’s surface; a tendency that seems to have increased after he was sent back to the _Enterprise_ for the first time. There may be a good explanation for this, but I’m not taking any risks. Data will understand the necessity, once he’s himself again.” 

“I’m sure he will,” Picard said. “Let’s just hope he _will_ recover to give us the answers we need. Have him beamed back up, Lieutenant, and taken to his quarters.” 

“Aye, sir,” Worf gestured to Ensign Nagel to take over for him and headed for the turbolift with his long strides. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Down on Bynax II, Riker was still trying to get some reaction out of Data – to no avail. The android seemed to be in a catatonic state… if that was possible for an artificial intelligence to begin with. He did not answer to any questions; he did not even blink, although that had been part of his programming in order to successfully mimic humanoid appearance. 

“Something is very wrong,” said Lieutenant Wallace, a life support specialist who was helping the local engineers to preserve the base’s primary systems, after having scanned Data thoroughly. “Isn’t he supposed to have a functioning circulatory system to regulate microhydraulic power throughout his body?” 

“I’m not really familiar with the details of what makes him tick,” Riker answered – which was the understatement of the century. He didn’t have the faintest idea when it came to cybernetics. “But I was told that Doctor Soong had gone to extraordinary lengths to create a naturalistic human appearance for Data.” 

“I hate to say so but the gold skin and yellow eyes kind of ruin the effect,” Baila commented dryly. 

“In any case,” Lieutenant Wallace continued, studiously ignoring the comment. “I can’t find any sign of circulatory functions.” 

Riker shook his head. “That’s not possible. Data _needs_ his circulatory system to function at all!” 

“Which may be the reason why he _doesn’t_ seem to be functional right now,” Baila pointed out. “What are we going to do with him, sir?” 

“I don’t know,” Riker confessed. “I’ve informed the captain and am still waiting for orders.” 

As if on clue, his comm. badge beeped. “Picard to Riker.” 

He touched the badge. “Riker here." 

"Have you managed to question Data?” Picard asked. 

“No, sir. He doesn’t answer any questions; he doesn’t even seem to notice our presence. In fact, some of his basic functions seem to have been shut down.” 

“I see,” there was a sound on the other end of the connection that could only be a sigh. “All right, Number One. I want you to put the strangest restrains available on Data and have him beamed back up. We’ll take it from there. Picard out.” 

Riker looked at Wallace. “Any suggestions, Lieutenant?” 

“Me, sir?” Wallace appeared surprised by the question.” 

“You’re the engineer,” Baila commented with a shrug. “Simple manacles won’t work on an android who can throw _Worf_ across the whole cargo bay without breaking into a sweat.” 

Wallace refrained from the comment that Data didn’t actually _sweat_. As a rule, security officers didn’t like to be corrected, and while Baila was an easy-going guy, he didn’t want to get on his wrong side. 

“Gravimetric clamps might work,” he said instead, after a moment of consideration. “They use an object’s own weight to pin it to any given spot. We use them to secure heavy machinery – or entire shuttles, if necessary.” 

“That could be just the thing we need,” Riker agreed. “Do we have any of those at hand?” 

“No, but I can ask Engineering to send us a pair.” 

“Let them send two pairs,” Riker said. “I’m not taking any risks with an out-of-control android. I want him restrained on arms _and_ legs, both.” 

“Understood, sir.” 

Wallace made the call and soon the gravimetric clamps materialized right in front of them. They were big, clumsy, extremely heavy-looking items, so Riker hoped they would be strong enough to restrain Data. 

All attempts to make the android leave the cubicle under his own power failed, so they had to drag the gravimetric clamps – that turned out every bit as heavy as they looked – over there to fasten them on his limbs. It was a tricky job, as the things were designed to work on smooth, horizontal surfaces, but thanks to Lieutenant Wallace’s innovative mind, they managed to make them work after a while. Data was now ready to be beamed back to the ship. 

“We’re finished here,” Riker told Ensign Davis, the technician on duty in the cargo transporter; because of the weight of the gravimetric clamps they couldn’t use any of the personal transporters to get the android back on board. “Have security bring something to haul him over to his quarters, since he doesn’t seem to be willing to move on his own.” 

“Everything’s been taken care of, Commander,” Davis replied. “I’ve locked on to Commander Data. Ready to energize when you are, sir.” 

“Energize,” Riker said, and in the next moment the unresponsive form of the android dematerialized in a column of sparkling energy. 

“Right,” the executive officer said to no-one in particular. “One problem solved, several hundred more to go. Back to work then.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Picard had decided to use the time of relative calm to go down to Sickbay and check on the condition of the injured ensigns. Burke was still unconscious, restrained by a forcefield, while Nurse Temple was administering him a small but steady inflow of special sedatives to counteract the hormonal overload in his system. 

“We do not dare to wake him up before we have stabilized his hormonal levels,” Selar explained to the captain. 

“Have you found out what caused his condition?” Picard asked. 

Selar shook her head in a manner that could have been called apologetic, were she a human. As she was not, Picard didn’t even bother to try interpreting the particular Vulcan non-expression currently upon her face. 

“The working theory is an overreaction to Bridrani pheromones,” she explained. “However, we cannot tell for certain. There is not enough empirical data available about Bridrani biochemistry and its effects on humans.” 

“What does Ensign Rina say?” Picard asked. 

“Nothing, so far,” Selar replied. “S/he has just regained consciousness 4.72 minutes ago and panicked so much when s/he found hirself in the biohazard isolation unit that I did not dare to send anyone in to treat hir injury. Not even a Vulcan would have stood a chance against such an onslaught of stress pheromones.” 

“Was s/he really knocked out by a Vulcan nerve pinch?” 

“The shape and condition of the bruising on hir trapezoid muscle cluster makes it a 98.6 per cent probability,” Selar said with scientific precision. 

Picard shook his head in bewilderment. 

“I know that Data can use the pinch – unarmed combat techniques are part of his basic programming – but why would he attack Ensign Rina?” he wondered. “Even if he were trying to escape, s/he wouldn’t have had the means to hinder him in it.” 

Selar raised an eyebrow – the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug. 

“I do not have the necessary data to answer your question, Captain,” she said. “You will have to ask hir, once s/he has calmed down enough to answer any questions.” 

“Oh, trust me, I will,” Picard said darkly. “In the meantime I’m going to pay a visit to the wounded from the planet. Is Doctor Crusher still in the surgical ward?” 

“She has finished half an hour ago and went off-duty after two full shifts,” Selar replied. “Doctor Martin is currently overseeing the patients in the intensive care unit.” 

“Any further casualties?” 

“None so far, although four patients from the Starbase personnel are still critical. We will know more about their chances tomorrow – if they survive the night.” 

Picard thanked her and went over to the primary Sickbay facility on the port side of Deck Twelve, where the two intensive care wards were located, with an attached lab, a nursery and the chief medical officer’s office. 

The latter was currently occupied by a lanky, dark-skinned human whom he recognized as Doctor Rick Martin. The doctor was discussing something with their Denobulan virologist, Dr Hacopian, in a jargon only someone with several medical degrees would understand; but they interrupted their discussion when they spotted him. 

“Captain!” the Denobulan greeted him with the unnaturally wide smile so characteristic for his race that made them look disturbingly like insane clowns. “Come to check on our patients?” 

“Something like that,” Picard said. “Any new insights on the alien weapon?” 

The Denobulan shrugged. “Well, I can tell you with an eighty per cent certainty that it isn’t a biological weapon in the traditional sense of the word. It operates on the basis of gamma radiation – but not the kind of gamma radiation that _we_ know. It is a very specific version, deadly only for humans and species genetically close enough to humans.” 

“ _How_ close?” Picard asked. 

“Not close enough for spontaneous cross-breeding, if that is what you mean, since it kills Bolians as well,” Doctor Hacopian said. “Other than that, we’re still feeling our way around in the dark, I’m afraid.” 

“Do the wounded have a chance for a full recovery? Aside from the critical cases, that is?” 

“They respond to anti-radiation therapy well enough,” Doctor Martin replied. “There’s always an uncertainty factor, of course, but if no unexpected problems arise, they will make it.” 

“That’s a relief,” Picard released a long-held breath in relief. “Keep me updated, Doctor.” 

“Of course, Captain.” 

Picard left Sickbay and headed for the turbolift to return to the bridge. Halfway there, his comm badge chirped. 

“Captain, Data has been beamed up,” Worf reported. 

“Have him confined to quarters until we have the chance to question him,” Picard ordered. 

“Aye, sir,” he heard the Klingon delegating the order to whatever security detail had been assigned to the task, and then the low, off-stage grumble of the security chief. “ _If_ he is willing to talk to us – this time.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
In the airlock near the transporter room closest to the Battle Bridge Data suddenly snapped back to life, bolting upright like a puppet whose strings had been yanked. He blinked, looked around himself in confusion and started running a self-diagnostic. 

His internal chronometer told him that he had been here for the last 42.65 standard minutes; but he lacked any information regarding where he had been and what he had done before. There was a complete memory loss of several hours. 

The last thing he could remember was that they had tried to drill a hole into the alien object found on Bynax II and that he had been hit by the wave of deflective energy the object had released. After that every data check came up with a blank. 

The self-diagnostic had run its circle and informed him that he was working within normal parameters – which simply could _not_ be true. His memory loss, digitally seen, was enormous – as if he had been deactivated in those hours. _That_ could have been an explanation, of course… if he had found the internal protocols documenting a recent shutdown. 

However, he found none. It was as if he had not even existed in those missing hours at all. Which, again, was impossible, since he clearly existed now… unless this was some sort of cybernetic afterlife. 

Or a different dimension. 

He did not think it was either of those, though. Firstly, he did not consider the possibility of such an afterlife. As an artificial life form, his thinking process was strictly based on scientific logic and empiric data. _Like a Vulcan, but without all that mystical mumbo-jumbo_ , Geordi had once said. And while it clearly had been a joke, it did contain a kernel of truth. 

So, no afterlife. 

Having fallen into a different dimension _was_ a possibility. But his receptors had already identified the sounds and smells and visuals around him as belonging to the _Enterprise_. The complex environmental indicators of the ship were too specific to be reproduced in any other space – or reality. Parallel dimensions were… well, _parallel_ realities, not identical to one’s own. 

He triangulated his position and knew now that he was in an airlock near the Battle Bridge, even though he did not know how he had got there – and _why_. But there had to be an explanation for his presence, and he was determined to find it. 

With some effort he clambered to his feet – despite what the self-diagnostic had stated, his inner balance felt strangely off – and went to the closest communication unit to contact the Bridge, since he seemed to have lost his comm. badge somehow. He activated the unit… and his audio sensors nearly suffered an overload when Worf’s booming voice sounded right next to his ear. 

“Captain, Data has been beamed up,” the Klingon reported. 

“Have him confined to quarters until we have the chance to question him,” Picard, who clearly wasn’t on the Bridge at the moment, answered him. 

Worf acknowledged the order and growled something afterwards, which Data ignored. 

Now things were starting to make sense. He was clearly malfunctioning due to the encounter with the alien object, so they had sent him back to the ship. There must have been a transporter error, too, as the result of which he had ended up here. This was not good. He needed to return to his quarters. 

If the captain wanted him to stay there, though, he had to _get_ there first. 

He entered the turbolift, gave it his destination and soon reached Deck Two, where his quarters were located. The fact that two grim-faced security officers were standing in front of his door, armed to the teeth, did not surprise him. He was malfunctioning; perhaps he represented a danger for the rest of the crew. 

That did not explain why the guards were staring at him in obvious shock, though, with eyes as wide as the saucer section. 

“Ensign Lesco,” he addressed the older one, an experienced, no-nonsense veteran in his early forties. “I understand that the captain had me confined to quarters?” 

For all his experience, Ensign Kenneth Lesco needed several attempts to come up with an audible answer. 

“Y-yes, Commander,” he stammered. 

“In that case it would be best if I went in there,” Data continued, still not understanding why they were so shocked. 

“How did you escape for a second time?” Crewman Burris, the other guard, blurted out. 

“Escaped?” Data echoed in honest confusion. “I did not _escape_ from Bynax II, Crewman. It was clearly a transporter malfunction. Now, if you could open the door for me I would like to obey the captain’s orders.” 

The two security officers kept exchanging bewildered looks; then Lesco shrugged and released the seal on the door. 

“In you go, Commander.” 

“Thank you, Ensign,” Data marched into the living area of his quarters – and came to a dead stop. 

Standing in the middle of the room, immobilized by _four_ gravimetric clamps strong enough to hold a shuttle in place, he saw – himself. 

Or, at the very least, somebody that looked almost exactly like him. _Almost_. Save for the fact that the other Data appeared to be deactivated. 

“Well,” he said to himself. “That explains some things. Let us see if I can wake you up.” 


	8. Data Who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alpha III is the homeworld of Lieutenant Carolyn Palamas (TOS: “Who Mourns for Adonais?”). Its historical background and other details come from “The Worlds of the Federation” by Shane Johnson and are therefore semi-canon.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 08 – DATA WHO?**

Leaving the restraints on as a precaution, Data reached out, seeking for the master switch on his doppelganger’s side. He was not particularly surprised when he found none. Without a tricorder at hand he could not scan the other android, of course, but he could tell by mere visual observation that while they seemed very similar on the surface, they were not fully identical.

Almost as if somebody had tried to make a copy of him without the necessary blueprints to get it right.

Despite the lack of a master switch, the other android did react to his touch. Its lifeless eyes began to move – more in the manner of targeting scanners than the true eye movements _he_ was capable of – until they focused on him.

“Identification: artificial life form,” the doppelganger said in a flat, mechanical vocoder voice. “Specification: android. Name: Data. Rank: lieutenant commander. Position: Second Officer. Contact protocols initiated.”

Data blinked a few times in surprise. “You are supposed to contact _me_?”

“Affirmative.”

“What for?”

“Direct contact with organics not advised,” the other one said. “Possible hostile actions expected. Warning must be delivered. Contact with other machine image promises statistically greater success.”

“Your language processor program is in need of an update,” Data muttered, trying to make sense of the convoluted speech patterns of the other one.

The comment seemed to confuse his doppelganger.

“Syntax unclear,” it said. “Clarification is required.”

“It was an irrelevant comment,” Data replied. “Tell me about the warning you have to deliver.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Kenneth Lesco, in the meantime, recovered far enough from his surprise to remember proper protocol and called the Bridge to inform the captain of the bizarre situation.

“Sir, I don’t know how it is possible, but Commander Data has just returned to his quarters,” he reported.

“How did he manage to leave in the first place?” Picard asked.

“I have no idea, sir,” Lesco admitted. “He didn’t leave through the door, that much is certain. Crewman Burris and me were standing here the whole time. Nobody came out that way.”

“Did Commander Data speak to you?”

“Yes, sir. He said that you had him confined to quarters – which we already knew – and that he wanted to follow your orders.”

“Did he tell you how he’d managed to escape?”

“That’s the weirdest thing, sir: he said he hadn’t escaped. That it was a transporter malfunction,” Lesco explained doubtfully. “But Captain, that’s simply not possible! I was there when he was beamed up from the planet. He arrived in Transporter Room Three like any other time. And we escorted him straight to his quarters after that.”

“I see,” Picard said. “I think it’s time that I had a conversation with Mister Data – now that he’s actually willing to talk. Stay on alert, Ensign. I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Aye, sir,” Lesco replied, relieved that the problem would be taken out of his hands. 

This was a problem too big for a simple security officer. It was better to let the captain deal with it.

Ten minutes later Picard arrived indeed, with Worf in tow. The Klingon was carrying the biggest phaser rifle that could be found in the weapon’s chamber of the _Enterprise_ ; one with enough firepower to destroy Data’s tough mechanical shell if necessary.

While such a shot would most likely destroy half of Data’s quarters in the process as well, Lesco agreed with the precaution. The android had already managed to escape custody twice; at the third time, he might even become hostile, and he was not a foe one should take lightly.

“Open the door, Ensign, and come in with us,” Picard ordered. “Crewman Burris, you’ll remain outside and keep an eye on the door. If we’re not back in fifteen minutes, call in reinforcements; they are on standby and waiting for your call. If Data tries to leave without us, shoot him.”

“Understood, sir,” Burris replied crisply.

Lesco opened the door and stepped in, taking aim, his phaser set to heavy stun, at the ready. Then it hit the floor with a loud _thud_ , slipping through his nerveless fingers – simultaneously with his jaw.

“ _Two_!” he muttered in utter shock. “There are _two_ of them!”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“No, actually there aren’t,” declared Geordi LaForge, after having scanned both androids thoroughly; they had both been brought to the cybernetics lab and he’d been called up from Engineering to examine them.

“They certainly do look the same,” Worf muttered.

“To the naked eye perhaps,” Geordi replied. “But in the inside they’re very different. _Our_ Data is an android with a positronic brain, made to mimic the human form. This… replica is more like a robot, actually, with no organic components at all. My guess is that it had been created for the very purpose to look familiar to us, without any attempt of _really_ copying Data as he is.”

“That is correct,” the Data-copy said in its lifeless voice. “The device does not have the knowledge to build a positronic brain. It copied the outer hull for visual similarity.”

“And not even the outer hull is exactly the same,” Geordi said. “For starters, it has no bioplast sheeting; and while Data’s skull is composed of cortenide and duranium, his alter-ego is entirely made of some unknown metallic alloy... my guess would be the same as the planet-bound object, but I can’t be sure without a complete analysis.”

“You are correct,” the android… robot… whatever… said. “The device created me of its own components to deliver a warning to the organics currently populating the planet. As there was previous evidence for organics being hostile towards other devices, I was sent to _your_ machine-image to make contact and deliver the warning.”

“An avatar!” Geordi realized. “It’s an avatar of the object that had been buried on Bynax II, God knows how long a time ago. It isn’t an individual entity at all!”

“Correct again,” the avatar said. “I am the voice of the device. Indirect contact has been made with the leader of the organics, but it proved inefficient. Thus I was made to deliver the warning directly.”

It sounded like a broken record, Geordi found.

“Indirect contact?” Picard frowned. “What does it mean?”

“I believe my doppelganger refers to Commodore Norsen’s vague awareness of the approaching threat, Captain,” Data said. “It appears that the planet-bound object has become aware of the approach of its spaceborn counterpart and tried to warn him… perhaps through hypnotic suggestions.”

“The contact proved inefficient,” the avatar repeated. “Organic brains are ill-suited to understand the device. Thus I was sent to make contact with a more compatible machine brain – yours.”

“It does have a circular way of talking, doesn’t it?” Geordi grinned, despite the obvious gravity of the situation.

Compared with Data, the avatar was a fairly crude construction indeed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Picard replied. “We need all the information it can provide. Let us relocate to the conference room; and I want Commodore Norsen, Captain Saavik and her first officer there as well. This is something they would want to know, too; especially Ty. He will be relieved to learn that he wasn’t going mad, after all.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
In the meantime, trapped in the biohazard isolation unit, Rina was panicking in earnest. 

As a rule hir race did not have a tendency towards claustrophobia – they had been cave-dwellers much longer than the forefathers of mankind – not as long as they knew that there _was_ a way out. Being shut in, however, touched an ancient, atavistic fear inside hir: that of a cave dweller trapped in a cave-in.

Half an hour after s/he had regained consciousness s/he was pounding with hir fists on the unbreakable plexiglass of the observation window, demanding from medical personnel to leave hir out.

“I’m not some animal!” s/he screamed. “And I’m not infectious, either. You can’t keep me in here!”

“We have no other choice, Ensign,” Doctor Selar replied calmly. “Not before you would calm down considerably. Your pheromone levels are hitting the roof; I cannot allow you to have contact with anyone.”

“You don’t understand!” Rina wailed, clawing the walls with hir already bloodied fingernails. “I can’t stay in here any longer! It’s killing me!”

“Doctor, hir blood pressure has reached dangerously high levels and is still rising,” Nurse Temple warned the Vulcan. “We must _do_ something!”

“There is nothing we can do from here and I cannot allow anyone in there with hir,” Selar answered. “I shall call for reinforcements.”

She went to the nearest intercom unit and activated it. “Selar to Counselor Troi.”

“Troi here,” came the immediate answer. “How can I help you?”

“Counselor, you are needed in Sickbay,” Selar told her. “Ensign Rina is in a state of extreme agitation. I am concerned that she might harm hirself if we cannot manage to calm hir down – or suffer a stroke. Sedating hir would only prolong the problem; we need your expertise to improve hir condition.”

“On my way,” Troi replied and broke the connection.

She indeed arrived a couple of minutes later, listened to Selar’s short but thorough report, and then walked to the observation window of the isolation unit and knocked on the glass to draw the patient’s attention.

“Ensign Rina,” she said in a calm, measured voice, trying her best to send waves of peaceful feelings to the upset Bridrani. “Can you hear me?”

Rina whirled around like a caged bird, ready to shatter hirself on the unforgiving glass.

“Deanna!” s/he cried; the fact that s/he would use Troi’s given name, which s/he had never done before, clearly showed in what an emotional uproar s/he was at the moment. “Tell them to let me out of here!”

“I will,” Troi promised. “But you need to calm down first. You know that you’re a risk for others, especially for humans, in your current state.”

Rina stared at her in anguish. Bridrani had no tear ducts, their bodies using other methods to keep their eyes from drying out, but s/he looked as if s/he would break out in tears any moment nonetheless.

“I don’t know how to do it!” s/he whimpered. “I’m so scared I can’t breathe!”

“I can help you,” Troi said. “I’ll guide you through a series of breathing exercises that will calm you down and allow you to regain your inner balance.”

“I… I’m not sure I can do that,” Rina admitted.

“Of course you can,” Troi said, with a good deal more confidence than she was actually feeling. “ _Everyone_ can. Now, listen to my voice and do as I say…”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Only a few minutes after Picard had questioned the alien avatar, the command staff of the _Enterprise_ – minus Commander Riker who was still down on Bynax II – gathered in the observation lounge that also served as the conference room on occasion. For this purpose it had a long conference table in the middle, around which the officers took their usual seats, with Commodore Norsen, Captain Saavik, Commander Ford and the avatar filling the empty spaces.

“All right,” Picard said to the avatar when everyone was seated. “I want to hear the whole story from the beginning. What are these… devices as you call them and why has one of them attacked our Starbase terminal?”

“The devices were made thousands of your standard years ago, by the indigenous people of a planet named Kericindal,” the avatar began. “Their purpose was to find other planets that would be well-suited for colonization – or to transform them with the least possible effort.”

“You mean they are actually terraforming machines?” Commander Ford tried to clarify things.

“You could probably call them that,” the avatar replied. “However, the inhabitants of Kericindal were a reptiloid species that required an environment that differed from the human norm in both temperature and the necessary trace elements in the atmosphere. Their requirements were rather… specific.”

“Where is this Kericindal exactly?” Picard asked. “The name sounds familiar but I can’t really place it at the moment.”

“The galactic coordinates are 28.5 by 52.8 by 19.0, according to your cartographic system,” the avatar told him.

“But those are the coordinates of Alpha III!” Commodore Norsen exclaimed. “Everyone knows that planet had no native civilization!”

“It doesn’t have _now_ , “Picard corrected. “Neither did it have one when the Earth colony was established there in the 22nd century. However, later excavations revealed that an intelligent culture of an advanced nature had died out thousands of years earlier. That race had called their world Kericindal and, despite the fact that they had apparently reached a high degree of technological capacity, they never left their planet to explore space.”

“That was impressive, Jean-Luc,” Commodore Norsen commented. “I know you’re something of an amateur archaeologist but this isn’t common knowledge, not even among experts.”

Picard shrugged. “Professor Galen used to work on the excavations on Alpha III in his youth. He was quite impressed with the culture of Kericindal and thought it a shame that they never made it into space.”

“Actually, they did,” the avatar corrected. “The Builders did not really die out. When the gravitational pull of the two outer planets of the system – two gas giants that slowly revolve around each other as they orbit Alpha - caused a minute shift in Kericindal’s orbit, it led to a drastic drop of the average temperature and irreversible changes in the atmosphere. Not even the Builders could correct the orbit of their own planet, so they chose to move out to a better suited new homeworld.”

“So that is why so very little of their culture was left behind for us to find,” Picard murmured thoughtfully.

“Correct,” the avatar said. “The process required 97.8 of your standard years. Three subsequent generations meticulously removed everything that could be of further use until only the buildings remained; and some of the technology that was permanently installed.”

“But why are these terraforming devices still roaming deep space?” Captain Saavik asked. “Was this a precaution, in case the new homeworld would not work out?”

“Perhaps they were so busy colonizing their new homeworld that they simply forgot to call the things back,” Geordi suggested.

“Or they’ve taken to space exploration, after all, and decided to establish further colonies eventually,” Commander Ford added, shifting to find a more comfortable position in his wheelchair.

“We do not have empirical data,” the avatar admitted. “The device that created me had been damaged upon entering the atmosphere of Bynax II and crashed onto the planet surface. It had begun its transformation work nonetheless, which has made Bynax II a more or less habitable planet in the first place, but it could not finish it. It was too badly damaged, its energy all but depleted. So it decided to allow nature to finish the process on its own and went dormant to conserve its remaining energy.”

“Until we built a Starbase terminal under its very nose,” Commodore Norsen muttered.

“You presence would not have woken it up,” the avatar said. “It is programmed to react to the Builders only when in dormant mode; or to one of its own kind.”

“Was it the arrival of the spaceborn device that woke it up then?” Data asked.

His doppelganger nodded; it was a stiff, unnatural gesture. One could almost imagine to hear its neck cranking.

“The devices can communicate with each other across many parsecs,” it explained. “And they are emitting a constant hailing frequency to find each other. It is like a wake-up call for all dormant units.”

“So the object down there knew its big brother was coming,” Picard summarized. “And it has tried to influence Commodore Norsen’s thought patterns by giving him the image of imminent destruction, thus allowing him to lead the Starbase crew underground before the object arrived to unleash its wrath.”

“Correct,” the avatar said. “However, the message was not clear enough, therefore the device created a copy of your only machine-image – _me_ – and I was given the task of warning everyone that the other device was on its way.”

“Interesting,” Saavik commented languidly. “This still does not explain _why_ the Starbase was attacked, though.”

“The data are incomplete, as communication between the two devices was brief and disturbed by the gaseous rings of the planet,” the avatar explained. “Apparently, one of these devices has been destroyed by humans on a faraway planet and a duplicate was sent out to hunt down the people responsible and exact revenge.”

“ _What_?” cried the Starfleet officers in unison.

“The Builders possessed a very strong sense of justice that they programmed into their transformation devices,” the avatar said, sounding almost apologetic. “Unfortunately, something must have gone wrong with the programming and that particular object just continued in its mission to wipe out all human life forms.’

“And it has just reached the edge of a galactic sector that is densely populated with such life forms,” Dr Crusher whispered in horror. “Oh God, how can we stop it before it performs mass genocide?”

“We can’t,” Worf announced darkly. “We don’t have the means to do so. Whatever we shot at that object with, its shields simply absorbed it: phaser energy, photon torpedoes… everything!”

“That is the other reason I was sent to you,” the avatar said. “I can give you the shield specifications, so that your weapons can penetrate them. Without the shields, the metallic structure of the device would be more vulnerable to your photon torpedoes.”

“And your… creator will allow us to destroy it?” Picard needed affirmation for that. The last thing they needed was to get into the crossfire between the two alien objects.

The avatar nodded again. “The spaceborn device is malfunctioning; therefore it must be neutralized. The Builders were no mass murderers; they would never want for their technology to turn into a killing machine.”

“Can the object be repaired or reprogrammed eventually?” Data asked, not wanting to destroy such an ancient and yet advanced piece of technology.

“Not to my knowledge,” the avatar replied. “These devices were not designed to reprogram themselves… or each other. We do not have the know-how to tamper with the programming; any attempt could make things worse, much worse. The devices have an enormous destructive potential. Everything that can create the conditions of life can also destroy them.”

Picard looked at Worf and Data.

“Work with him,” he ordered, treating the avatar as a person for the first time. “Get from him everything you need to deal with the object. We may not have much time.”

His words proved quite prophetic, as the intercom system came alive.

“Tactical to Lieutenant Worf,” the voice of Ensign Sparks said.

“Go ahead,” the Klingon growled.

“Lieutenant, I think you should come back to the Bridge,” Sparks said. “The alien object has returned.”


	9. The Monster Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the technobabble in this chapter doesn’t make any real sense. To my defence, neither did the version in the rejected plot idea. I just tried to patch together something that would drive the events towards the end.  
> Alfonse Pacelli is a canon character. So are Wallace, Bennett and Youngblood.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 09 – THE MONSTER BAIT**

The news, when not entirely unexpected, filled everyone with tense anticipation.

“We must beam everyone up immediately,” Picard said. “How many people do we still have on the surface?”

“Too many,” Geordi replied grimly. “We can’t transport more than ten people at the same time. That means forty people, if we use all four personal transporters. We’ll need at least three transports; that is, if the object doesn’t disrupt the transporter beam.”

“Can it do so?” Picard looked at the avatar questioningly.

“Unknown,” it replied. “The Builders did not have transporter technology; I cannot tell how the device will react to it.”

“How does the object track its victims down?” Commander Ford asked.

“By analyzing respiration, biochemistry, and body temperature within rather narrow margins,” explained the avatar.

“Fascinating,” Captain Saavik commented. “That must be why the Saurian engineer was passed over by the death beams. Saurians are a cold-blooded species, with a body temperature much lower than the human norm.”

“Why were the Rigelians affected then?” Worf asked. “Vulcanoid species have a higher body temperature than humans.”

“Not high enough to make a significant difference,” Saavik said. “We do not throw off heat like a furnace; like Klingons do.”

“Does it mean that Klingons may be passed over, too?” Picard asked Dr Crusher.

“It is possible,” she allowed, a little uncertainly. “I wouldn’t base my life on that hope, though, if I were Worf.”

“The most important thing is to beam the people still down on the planet to safety,” Commodore Norsen interrupted the discussion. “Tell your executive officer to use our site-to-site transporter and take everyone underground till we’ve dealt with the threat.”

“That might work,” Picard agreed and called Riker. “Number One, the alien object has returned. Take everyone to the bunker Commodore Norsen has prepared for his people and wait until further orders.”

“Aye, sir,” Riker acknowledged his orders and signed off.

“Well,” Picard took a deep breath. “That is one problem dealt with. The smaller one. How are we going to deal with the actual threat, though? Is it true that the… the device won’t attack starships, just planet-bound colonies?”

“It would try to track down humans _on_ the planet first,” the avatar replied. “It has scanned the planet previously and knows that there ought to be hundreds of… of _targets_. Once it has scanned the entire planet for eventual survivors, though, and realizes that they are gone, it will widen its search radius… and ultimately find _you_. We need to act before _that_ happens.”

“We must somehow come up with a way to draw the object back, so that we can destroy it,” Geordi said thoughtfully. “But how?”

“We need a bait,” Worf growled. “One that would lure the object close enough for our photon torpedoes to be effective. We could place biomatter in a shuttlecraft and set it up as a bait.”

Data and Geordi exchanged questioning looks – and shook their heads in unison.

“We would need a great number of objects that the device could mistake for humans,” the android thought out loud.

“We can’t replicate so much biomatter that would mimic hundreds of human bodies in such a short time,” Geordi said worriedly. “How long would that thing need to scan the entire planet anyway?”

“Approximately two hours and four minutes,” the avatar replied.

Geordi shook his head again. “Rerouting enough energy _and_ programming the replicators to produce _actual_ biomatter, not just the holographic equivalent of it, would take twice that time. We need another solution.”

“Then find one!” Worf snarled.

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Geordi snapped at him. “I’m an engineer, not Doctor Frankenstein, and besides, I doubt that the volatile atmosphere of Bynax II would provide us with the crucial lightning stroke at the right moment.”

Picard looked at Doctor Crusher but she, too, shook her head apologetically. “Not really my area, Jean-Luc. I’m sorry.”

Data cleared his throat. “If I may make a suggestion, sir…”

“Any suggestions are welcome, Data,” Picard replied. “What do you have in mind?”

“The Bridrani have developed a technology that allows inanimate objects to mimic organic life forms. Only for a short time, but it might be enough to fool the… the _device_ long enough for us to destroy it.”

“You mean we should ask Ensign Rina to come up with something?” Geordi asked.

The android nodded.

“That could be a problem,” Doctor Crusher said. “Ensign Rina is still confined to the biohazard isolation unit because hir pheromones are completely out of control. Counselor Troi is working with hir and trying to calm hir down, but it will take time.”

“How much time?” Picard asked.

Doctor Crusher shrugged. “That I can’t say. It takes as long as it takes. We don’t know enough of the Bridrani to be sure.”

“So s/he won’t be able to return to work for a while?” Geordi clarified.

Doctor Crusher shook her head. “It would be too dangerous – for hir _and_ for the rest of the crew.”

“But s/he could work _inside_ the isolation ward,” Geordi said. “We can give hir the problem and whatever s/he needs to solve it.”

“Make it so,” Picard said. “Data, you and your doppelganger start working with Lieutenant Worf to recalibrate our photon torpedoes for maximum effect on the object’s shielding. And make haste; you’ve got less than two hours.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The session with Counselor Troi had helped Rina to get hir panic under control. Doctor Selar had been satisfied with hir progress and with the gradual decrease of hir hormone levels and blood pressure. But s/he was still confined to the isolation ward and it was steadily driving hir mad.

S/he was therefore greatly relieved when Geordi, hir immediate superior and only true friend on board, showed up in front of the observation window of the ward.

“Geordi!” s/he cried happily. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, they needed me to deal with Data,” he smiled at hir briefly. “How are you doing, short stuff?”

This was an ongoing joke between them, s/he being one of the few people who were actually shorter than he was.

“I’m getting better, s/he admitted. “I’m just going crazy in this hole. Can you get me out of here?”

“Afraid not,” he said apologetically. “The doctors have the final word on that. I’ve come for a different reason: I need your help with the alien object.”

“ _Mine_?” s/he was clearly taken aback.

“Well, it turns out the object tracks its victims down by sensing respiration and body temperature and human biochemistry,” Geordi explained. “We can’t replicate the amount of biomatter that would fool the alien device. So we need…”

“… inanimate objects that can mimic organic beings,” Rina interrupted, hir eyes sparkling with excitement already.

Geordi grinned. “You’re picking up some bad habits; but yes, you took the words right out of my mouth. Can you teach us how to build such things?”

“Of course!” s/he beamed at him happy and full of relief that s/he would finally have something to do. “That is fairly old technology; my people used it to mislead would-be conquerors before we acquired space flight ourselves.”

“What do you need for it?”

“I’ll have to consult my personal database, but I can give you a list in, say, ten minutes,” s/he offered.

“That would be good,” Geordi said. “We have less than two hours to fabricate a convincing bait for the object – and we won’t get a second chance.”

“I’ll do my best,” s/he promised. “Just get me access to the computer terminal in my quarters.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
If not in ten, but rather fifteen minutes later Geordi returned to Engineering, carrying a PADD with odd diagrams and detailed instructions on it. He handed it to Alfonse Pacelli, one of the enlisted specialists who nominally belonged to the science division but actually worked for Engineering most of the time.

“Here,” he said. “I want lots of these things, preferably yesterday, or the day before. As many as you and your team can churn out within the next hour and a half.”

Pacelli studied the PADD with interest. “What are these things?”

“According to Ensign Rina, and I quote, _they’re 98.6-degree objects within a carbon dioxide shell that can mimic organic life for a limited time_ ,” Geordi replied. “We have to fool that alien killing machine somehow, and these little gizmos are supposed to do the trick.”

“Wow!” Pacelli’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as he read the instructions. “I’ve never seen this kind of technology before.”

“It’s Bridrani,” Geordi explained. “They’re damn good engineers and Ensign Rina is a certified genius, so I trust that it’s doable.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Pacelli agreed. “It will be a bit tricky, but we can do this.”

He graduated the Starfleet Technical Services Academy with honours, so his confidence was well-grounded.

“Great,” Geordi said. “Take Wallace, Bennett and Youngblood and start working on it. We’re running out of time.”

Pacelli nodded and hurried off to gather his team and start working on _the monster bait_ as he inwardly named the things he was supposed to build. Geordi checked on the shield generators, discussed with Liz Clancy how they could make sure they would work at full capacity, and then went up to the Bridge again to see how Worf and the two Datas were progressing with the modifications on the photon torpedoes.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
To Geordi’s relief, Data and his doppelganger turned out to have finished their work on the torpedo systems.

“We’ve started building the baits,” he told them. “Hopefully they’ll be ready in time. Pacelli and his tem are smart people but they’re not familiar with Bridrani technology.”

“Could Ensign Rina not be released to help them?” Data asked.

Geordi shook his head. “According to Doctor Selar s/he would be more of a distraction than a help. In Selar’s estimate hir presence would raise our error rate nearly forty per cent.”

“The error rate _has_ gone up nearly forty per cent since s/he came aboard,” Worf growled.

Geordi gave him an unfriendly look. “That’s hardly hir fault. S/he has done nothing to encourage people’s interest in hir.”

“S/he still represents an unnecessary risk,” Worf retorted. “There was a reason why Starfleet didn’t accept Bridrani for permanent duty aboard Starfleet vessels.”

“If I remember correctly, there were people who said the same about Klingons,” Data commented innocently.

“Yeah, perhaps Starfleet will see the change of its policies justified when we save the Starbase due to hir knowledge,” Geordi said hurriedly before Worf would lose his temper.

Picard, who had been listening to their debate with interest, turned to Geordi.

“You seem to have absolute faith in the ensign’s work,” he said.

Geordi shrugged. “The fact is, Captain, s/he’s never wrong. Not when it’s about technology, at least.”

Picard raised an eyebrow. “I really hope your faith in hir is well-founded, Lieutenant. Because if we don’t start beaming down those things to the surface within the hour, it might be too late.”

“Captain,” the avatar interrupted. “I do not believe that simply beaming the devices down would be enough.”

Picard turned to it with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I understand that the devices need to be activated in the last possible moment because they cannot work for a long period of time,” the avatar explained. “I was created to follow through such an action. Beaming down with the devices will ensure that the terraforming machine can home in on to me. It will identify me as the avatar of its fellow device on the planet and logically assume that I have tracked down its targets to help its mission along. Therefore it will stop looking for other humans.”

“But won’t you be destroyed together with the targets?” Wesley Crusher asked anxiously.

“Of course not,” the avatar replied. “The death beam can only harm organics. I do not have any organic parts. I’m just a machine.”

“If I’ve learned anything due to my friendship with Data, it is that there’s no such thing as _just a machine_ ,” Geordi said seriously. “I hope you’re right. I’d hate to see you damaged or destroyed. You’ve done us a great service.”

“Not me; the device that created me,” the avatar corrected. “I am but its voice. But I am – we both are – also content that we have come to an understanding with your people.”

“Pacelli to LaForge,” the comm system interrupted them.

“Go on,” Geordi said.

“Lieutenant, we’ve built the first batch of devices,” Pacelli reported. “Chief O’Brien says he’d prefer to beam them directly to their final destination on the surface, as they’re somewhat fragile.”

Geordi looked at Picard who nodded.

“Do it then,” Geordi said. “How many of the things have you already made?”

“Six dozens, so far,” Pacelli replied. “I know it’s not much but we can’t replicate them. Well, we can replicate the _parts_ but they have to be put together manually. I’ve already drafted half the maintenance crew to help us… with your permission, sir.”

“Good thinking,” Geordi said. “Keep working and have O’Brien beam the things down as soon as they’re finished.”

“I had better return to the planet’s surface, too,” the avatar said. “Can you have me sent to where the baits are, Captain?”

“Of course, Mister… do you actually have a name?”

“As I am not an independent entity, I do not need one.” There was almost a wishful undertone in that artificial voice. “Do you think I could be called Data, too? It is only fitting.”

Geordi grinned. “Data Two,” he said, deliberately misinterpreting the avatar’s words. “I like it. What do you think, Data?”

“It is only fitting,” Data deadpanned, and everyone laughed, although he might have meant it seriously. He did not truly have a sense of humour, after all.

“Very well,” Picard said, suppressing a smile himself. He contacted Transporter Room Three. “Mister O’Brien, lock on to our new friend, Data II, and beam him down next to Mister Pacelli’s devices.”

“Aye, Captain,” came O’Brien’s voice from the loudspeaker. “Locked on target. Energizing _now_.”

In the next moment, the transporter beam carried Data II off the Bridge and the duty crew and the command staff started preparing themselves for the inevitable confrontation with the malfunctioning alien machine.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Pacelli and his team were in the process of finishing the last batch of bait devices when the alien object returned. It still had what had to be its battle configuration: curled around itself, all extremities focused in the same direction, ready to open fire on the planet.

“Captain,” Worf growled, somewhat unnecessarily. “Target has reappeared.”

“I see it, Mr Worf,” Picard replied.; then he activated the comm. “Bridge to engineering.”

“LaForge here,” Geordi replied; he had returned to Engineering shortly before.

“Mr LaForge, our ‘friend’ is back. What is the status of the shield generators?”

“I can give you one hundred and twenty per cent, Captain, but for no longer than twenty minutes. After that, the shields will simply drop on their own.”

Picard looked at Worf. “Will that suffice?”

The Klingon shrugged his massive shoulders. “If we can’t destroy the target within twenty minutes, we won’t survive the encounter in any case. It will have to do.”

“Fair enough,” Picard said. “Raise shields to maximum and go to Red alert. Mr Data, give your doppelganger the nod.”

“Aye, sir,” the android opened a channel to his counterpart on the surface. “Data to Data II – activate the bait.”

“Acknowledged,” came the avatar’s clipped answer and Data swivelled his chair to look at Picard. 

“Sir, the devices are activated. I can read the close equivalent of one hundred and thirty-nine humanoid life signs.”

“ _How_ close is the likeness?” Picard asked.

“It would not mislead _me_ – or a Vulcan scientist well-acquainted with humans – but it would be convincing to anyone with only a passing familiarity with your species, sir,” the android replied. “It is reasonable to expect that the alien object would believe it.”

“Captain, I’m reading a massive energy build-up in the core of the object,” Worf reported. “A great amount of power is being transferred from the central tower to the claws.”

“Put it onscreen,” Picard ordered. Wait until it opens fire at the surface – according to Data II that is the moment when its shields are the weakest.”

Worf carried out his orders and they all watched on the big screen with morbid fascination as the alien object built up so much destructive power that its entire structure became translucent with it. 

It could have been a beautiful sight if it had not been so deadly.

“It must have been amazing in actual terraforming mode,” Troi said quietly. “It’s a shame that we will have to destroy it.”

Picard nodded in agreement. “It is. But we cannot allow _that_ to happen anywhere else,” he gestured at the big screen, where the alien object had just opened fire.

The thick, bright beams of deadly radiation coming from all extremities of the ship were bundled with the one coming from the control tower, and the lethal column hit the surface of Bynax II with the force of a miniature nova. Even with the planet’s gaseous ring absorbing a small percent of the lethal energy, it was now a device of pure, unstoppable destruction.

“Power output has reached maximum level,” Worf reported; they had received the specifics from the avatar before it would beam down to the planet.

“Very well,” Picard said grimly. “Let’s do this. Arm photon torpedoes and lock on to the weakest point of the structure.”

“Photon torpedoes armed and ready,” Worf replied almost immediately. “Targeting scanners locked.”

“Fire torpedoes,” Picard gave the order in a calm, even voice. “Full spread. Keep firing at will until target is destroyed.”

“Forward torpedo launchers firing,” Worf touched the respective controls. “Direct hit on the enemy ship’s control tower. Its shielding has dropped to sixty per cent.” He touched another row of controls. “Saucer module launchers firing. Direct hit. The shielding of the enemy ship is down to forty per cent.” He went on to the next row of controls. “Aft torpedo launchers firing. Direct hit. The shields of the enemy ship have collapsed.”

“Finish it,” Picard said in a deadly cold voice that made everyone freeze for a moment.. No-one had ever heard him speak in that tone before.

Of course, Worf was the first one to recover from his surprise.

“Forward launchers reloaded and firing,” he said with a savage grin that showed the full row of his sharp teeth.

The bridge crew watched on the big screen their photon torpedoes slam into the control tower of the alien object with brutal force. Without its shields to protect it, the fragile structure shattered under the onslaught like glass – or like a crystal bowl under a sledgehammer – into a billion shards. 

Many of those pieces were hurled against the _Enterprise_ by the shockwave and burned up on the reinforced shields in a spectacular firework. Others suffered the same fate in the gaseous rings of Bynax II, filling the night sky of the planet with a beautiful albeit deadly spectacle of multicoloured lights.

“This was the most beautiful destruction I’ve ever seen,” Troi said quietly. “It’s still destruction, though… and a waste above all that.”

“It is,” Picard agreed. “But we had no other choice,” he looked at Worf. “Stand down from red alert, Lieutenant, and initiate quarantine procedure Alpha before bringing back Data II and those devices from the surface. I don’t want this ship contaminated by Gamma radiation doctored to kill humans specifically.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Worf mused, lengthening his strides to catch up with Geordi, who was heading back to Engineering. 

Data II and the devices serving as the monster bait had gone through decontamination and they wanted to study the latter before dismantling them, in case they needed to use them again in future.

“Just one? You’re a lucky man,” Geordi commented. “What is it?”

“How did Data manage to escape from his quarters and why would he attack Ensign Rina?” Worf asked. “He says he can’t remember.”

“And he tells the truth,” Geordi said. “His memory engrams have been completely erased, from the moment we were hit by the energy field of the alien object till the time when he woke up in that airlock by the Battle Bridge.”

“How is that possible? Doesn’t he have failsafes and backup systems to prevent exactly this kind of damage?”

“He does; and theoretically, that shouldn’t be possible,” Geordi admitted. “My theory is, and remember that I’m _not_ a cyberneticist, that the planet-bound device knocked him out and remotely controlled him until it could get him in touch with the avatar. I’ll have to discuss with Starfleet’s leading experts how we can prevent something like that happening again. _If_ we can.”

“Why shouldn’t we?”

“There are no guarantees, Worf. We could always run into ancient civilizations that are technically much more advanced than we are. That’s the beauty of space exploration: there’s so much to discover. So much to _learn_ , even after all those centuries we’ve already spent in space.”

Worf gave that aspect some thought and made a reluctant grunt of agreement.

“That still doesn’t explain the _how_ ,” he then said. “Or why is Ensign Burke still out like a light from an overdosis of Bridrani pheromones.”

“According to Doctor Selar he had an allergic reaction to them,” Geordi explained. “It’s rare but known to happen sometimes. And when a Bridrani is panicking, they can’t control their pheromone output.”

“It still doesn’t explain the _how_ ,” Worf insisted. “My instinct tells me there’s more behind Data’s escape than what meets the eye. Ensign Rina must have been part of it somehow.”

“Probably,” Geordi allowed. “But that’s the captain’s job to find out. _He_ is the one s/he answers to, not you or me.”

“I thought the two of you were… close,” Worf said delicately.

Well... delicately for a _Klingon_.

“We are,” Geordi agreed. “But not like _that_. As Doctor Selar has repeatedly told Commander Riker, no human would ever survive an encounter with a Bridrani in heat.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have something with hir _outside_ hir heat,” pointed out Worf reasonably. “S/he _likes_ you. You’d be a fool to let this chance slip through your fingers.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
At the same time Data, Data II and Rina were sitting in the captain’s ready room, trying to put together the events of which Data had no memory of. Learning what he had done during that time made the android very uncomfortable.

“Did I truly ask you to use your pheromones to distract Ensign Burke, so that he would allow me to go to the observation lounge?” he asked in disbelief.

Rina nodded glumly. “Yes, Commander. You told me that the alien ship was adapting to the situation and would soon attack both the _Enterprise_ and the _Cairo_ , unless you did something against it.”

“That was basically correct,” the avatar said.

“But how could Data have known it?” Picard wondered.

“He did not,” the avatar replied. “It was the knowledge of the device that created me. It has knocked Data’s personality out, so that it could act through him.”

“By why did it not send _you_ right away?” Rina asked.

“I needed physical contact to Data to become fully active,” the avatar explained. “Only through such contact was I able to download the personality protocols that enabled me to interact with you organics.”

“I assume, Captain, that the planet-bound object was trying to get me back down to Bynax II, so that my doppelganger could be activated,” Data added. “Unfortunately, my previous attempts to shut myself down weakened my systems to an extent that it led to a temporary failure in that airlock.”

“What were you doing in the dratted airlock anyway?” Riker, newly returned from the planet, asked.

“I do not remember,” Data confessed. “But I assume I must have tried to reach the transporter chamber near the Battle Bridge. My sense of orientation must have failed due to the previous malfunctions.”

“There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Troi said. ”Why the guilt? Why did you believe that the attack and the deaths on the planet surface were your fault?”

“Those were the thoughts of the device,” the avatar explained. “Data was simply channelling them while his own personality was dormant. The device had indeed come to the conclusion that the attack was a result of its inability to communicate with its spaceborn counterpart.”

“I thought those things could communicate with each other over parsecs,” Picard said. “That is what _you_ told us.”

“And it is correct… under normal circumstances,” the avatar replied. “However, the planet-bound device had taken heavy damage when it crashed onto Bynax II. It can _accept_ messages but it cannot _answer_ them.”

“I hope it doesn’t choose to self-destruct,” Riker muttered darkly. “Our people have suffered enough.”

“It will _not_ ,” the avatar promised. “Data and I have explained it that it would be more… practical if it stayed on Bynax II and continued its terraforming mission. We have programmed the new parameters – Data has found a way to tap into the database that I could not have done alone – so it would be actual terraforming from now on, the way you understand it.”

“Commodore Norsen was delighted to hear it,” Data added. “That way Bynax II can eventually become a real colony, not just a Starbase terminal.”

“Starfleet would like that,” Picard nodded. “Assuming the device will be able to communicate with Ty Norsen more directly.”

“That is what I am here for,” the avatar said. “Normally I would be re-absorbed into the device, now that my task is completed. It seems, though, that it will need me to be its voice for a while yet.”

“That is good,” Picard said. “This is a distant outpost on the edge of Federation space, facing the great unknown. We can use any help we get.”

“And I can use every help to learn how to co-exist with organics,” the avatar rose. “If you would excuse me, Captain; I have promised Panun’E’Ni to show her some of the functions of the device. We are trying to find a way to repair at least part of the damage, for the sake of energy preservation.”

Picard nodded. “Of course. We are done here anyway. I’ll do a full analysis for Starfleet once I’ve read everyone’s reports.”

His officers recognized the dismissal and rose to leave.

“Not you, Ensign Rina,” Picard said. “I’d like a word with you.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Rina collapsed back into hir chair. It was a known fact throughout the _Enterprise_ that _having a word_ with the captain usually meant trouble. Not that s/he hadn’t known s/he was in trouble, but still…

Picard waited until everyone left. Only then did he sit down behind his desk and gave the young Bridrani a piercing look. Rina tried hir best _not_ to squirm. For a long time they were both silent. In the end, Rina couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Am I about to lose my officer’s commission, Captain?”

“No,” Picard replied slowly. “Technically, you were acting under a superior officer’s orders; and I do not doubt that you meant well.” Rina practically deflated in relief.

“It was still wrong what you’ve done,” Picard continued evenly and s/he tensed up again. “Doctor Selar reassured me that Ensign Burke will not have any lasting consequences, but I can’t and won’t tolerate such behaviour on my ship.”

“I understand, sir,” s/he whispered, devastated. This was the end of hir Starfleet career. No other captain had wanted hir on board; after this, they wouldn’t even _consider_ accepting hir.

“However, Lieutenant LaForge tells me that you’re an excellent engineer and devoted to your work,” Picard went on. “I think Starfleet can’t afford to lose someone with your talent. We just need you an environment where you won’t endanger yourself – _or_ your shipmates.”

Rina shook hir head. “My people don’t explore space. As you know, Briria doesn’t even have any ships in the Fleet.”

“No; but the Deltans do,” Picard said. “Not many, but they do have a few deep-space survey ships. They rarely serve in mixed crews, for the same reason as you; but they will be able to handle your nature… and you theirs. It will be a good match.”

Rina knew it was true. S/he would miss being among humans, despite their bumpy start, but s/he would be safer on a Deltan ship. There s/he would be accepted and understood.

“But will they take me as a member of their crew?”

Picard nodded. “I’ve spoken to Captain Veraii Kirim-Rall of the _A-khanton_. They could use a good engineer. I told her that I have one for them,” he smiled at hir surprise. “You _are_ a good engineer, Ensign. You just need a place where you can unfold your talent without distraction.” 

He stood and held out his hand. “Good luck. We’ll drop you off at the nearest Starbase where you can board a personnel transport to Deep Space Six where the _A-khanton_ is docked right now. The rest depends on you; but I’m sure you’ll grow with the challenge.”


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lines of the dialogue between Geordi and Rina are taken from the rejected earlier script of the TNG episode “Unnatural Selection”, written by Mike Gray and John Mason. I found them too beautiful to remain unused.
> 
> The _Enterprise_ ’s next mission takes place during the episode “Hollow Pursuits”, Ensign Gibson, Lt Ballard and Christy Henshaw are canon characters.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
CHAPTER 10 – EPILOGUE**

Two days later Commodore Norsen and his surviving people returned to the planet and with them went Data II. The majority of the _Enterprise_ ’s off-duty crew gathered in Ten Forward to watch the ship break orbit, while the others followed the events on the respective viewscreens of their duty stations. The bridge crew of Alpha shift had the best view, of course, as always.

“I want to thank you and your crew for the help, Jean-Luc,” Commodore Norsen, whose image filled every screen, said sincerely. “Please tender my thanks to Captain Saavik as well… _and_ my condolences for losing their doctor. They left before I was able to speak to her.”

“I will,” Picard promised. “Are you absolutely sure that you want to stay here, Ty? Building up a new colony around the Starbase is a lot of work; and you’ve already served long enough.”

“Which is why I’m planning to retire – _here_ ,” Norsen replied. “Besides, I’ll have sufficient help with the work.”

“We will both continue our work here at Bynax II,” the avatar, who was standing next to him, assured everyone. “That is what the Builders would want.”

“I wish you good luck,” Picard said. “Unfortunately, as much as I’d like to see how this new alliance may work out, we must depart on to our next mission to the Mikulak homeworld. They offered us a load of special tissue samples that could prove vital to the containment of an outbreak of Corellium fever on Nahmi IV. We must break orbit without further delay.”

“The work of a Starfleet captain is never done,” Commodore Norsen answered with feeling. “Godspeed then, Jean-Luc, and should you be in the neighbourhood again…”

“I’ll drop by to say hello,” Picard promised; then he sat down in his chair and pulled on his uniform jacket so that it would fit perfectly. “At your convenience, Number One.”

“Course and speed set for the Mikulak homeworld, sir,” Riker reported crisply.

Picard nodded and made a small wave with his hand as was his wont. “Engage.”

Wesley’s fingers danced on his console. The _Enterprise_ cleared the Bynax system and disappeared into subspace in a flash of energy.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***

Geordi and Rina left Ten Forward together, heading for their respective quarters.

“Looks like you'll be going to your next assignment with a captain's commendation in your record,” Geordi said conversationally. “I think you’ll fit in a lot better on a Deltan vessel. In many ways they’re similar to your people – and they’re great explorers, too. You won’t have a boring moment for the rest of your service; and you’ll have the chance to learn more than on any other post.”

“I know and I’m really looking forward to it,” s/he replied. “I’ll miss you, though. Your understanding... and the way you... see things,” s/he stopped and turned to him, looking at him with wide, crystalline blue eyes. “Tell me. When you look at me, what do you see? Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“To me beauty is a constantly changing thing,” Geordi replied thoughtfully. “Sometimes people have it and sometimes they don't. It all depends on their energy,” he paused, unsure whether he should continue; then he remembered Worf’s encouraging words and went on. “I see your energy and it's beautiful. But it comes from within.”

Rina laughed. “You're the only poetic chief engineer I've ever heard of.”

“And you're the most able trainee I've ever met,” Geordi took hir hand and kissed it. “To quote our first officer, ‘It's been a pleasure’. I’ll miss you, too.”

He tried to let go of hir hand but s/he wouldn’t let him.

“Technically, I'm off duty,” s/he said in a speculative manner.

Again, Geordi remembered Worf’s not-so-subtle suggestion.

“Technically, so am I,” he replied, realizing, that they had arrived at the entrance to her quarters. They looked at each other for a moment; then Rina raised an eyebrow… almost Vulcan-like.

“Maybe you'd like to come in,” s/he offered. “I've got a fabulous collection of antique star drive drawings.”

“Sounds riveting,” Geordi said after the briefest moment of hesitation.

This was his only chance. S/he would be off the ship at the next Starbase, most likely to go into deep space for the next fifty years or so. What did he have to lose?

S/he interpreted that as a yes and keyed in hir code. The door opened. Turning around the corner, conn officer Ensign Serena Gibson arrived just in time to see them enter, embrace each other and kiss before it would close again.

“No way!” she exclaimed in shocked surprise and turned on her heels to hurry back to Ten Forward.

Judy Ballard and Christy Henshaw would never believe _this_!

~The End~

Soledad Cartwright @ 20.06.2015.


End file.
